It starts with me

In some ways that's a prideful statement, in other ways it's one of humility. It struck me last night when listening and watching a child of some friends of ours just how influential I as a parent can be. This child was a carbon copy of his father. He stood the same, he talked the same, he laughed the same, I daresay he even thought the same. Again, pride aside, it hit me between the eyes (again). I matter. My strengths matter, my weaknesses matter, my attitudes matter, my actions matter, my thoughts matter. Furthermore, I'm responsible. I'm the parent. I'm the husband. I'm the father. And yet in the midst of all the "I"s, ironically, it's not about "I"(me). Life is so many times a question of influence; who am I being influenced by and who am I influencing. When looking at it that way, the "I" quickly disappears and the sense of purpose appears. However, when I'm dealing with those everyday hall of justice issues, maybe one logical place to look for answers is in the mirror while humming a Michael Jackson tune.