8 Things I Will Probably Never Be Able to Do

I WILL PROBABLY NEVER BE ABLE TO:

1) Read enough books to exhaust my mind or reach an end of all there might be to say on any subject or person, epecially God.

2) Speak more than two languages anywhere close to what could be called fluently.

3) Play any instrument in a way that could be deemed virtuousic.

4) Play a sport professionally.

5) Construct a habitable building by myself.

6) Do even routine car repairs completely on my own.

7) Balance a budget correctly.

8) Say "no" to peanut butter and chocolate.

The idea for making a list-blog is completely hijacked from one of my wife's previous posts. I will shamelessly admit that. (I really don't think originality is all it's cracked up to be.)

I start this strain of posts to remind myself of my limitations. As much as I want to ingrain in our daughter a sense of go-get-em, you-can-do-it, boldness and audacity, I also want her to have the humility to slow down, to ponder, and maybe even to pray; to know that life is vivacious, thrilling, spontaneous and exciting but also to know how near we all live to death, and how often we must all endure heartbreak, defeat and boredom.

I challenge the notion that my role as husband and father is primarily to meet all my family member's needs, to make sure that everyone is happy, well-fed, and decked out in the coolest clothes (with all the right, non-pink colors!).

I will probably accidentally sneeze on my wife's arm and hurt her in unspeakable ways. Zee, I will probably accidentally smack your head against the hook on the bathroom door at the Henry Doorly Zoo again, like I did yesterday.

Before I get all bent out of shape listing my failures, I'd like to note that this is one of the most important things I believe marriage and parenting are supposed to do to you: hold up a big, clear mirror to all those thoughts, words and behaviors that are the ugliest in you.

I intend to start keeping track of these things and blogging about them when it's appropriate. Who knows, maybe there's someone out there who is as imperfect as me and will be able to relate. Who knows?