Jack Gindi
What should one do when a loved one is making choices we disagree with? A relationship isn’t going the way we hoped. An apology isn’t coming. A diagnosis isn’t changing. What do we do when we can’t make things turn out the way we want?
Maybe the better question is: What is still mine to choose?
There was a time in my life as a father when I struggled with some of the choices my children were making. I believed I knew what was best for them, and because I loved them, I wanted them to see what I saw. So, I did what I thought a father was supposed to do.
I talked. I advised. I explained. And when that didn’t seem to work, I’m sure I talked, advised, and explained some more. In my mind, I wasn’t trying to control my children. I was trying to help them. I think most parents would say the same.
But the harder I tried to influence their choices, the more distance I created between us. At one point, one of my sons disconnected his family from us for more than a year. That was painful. It also forced me to face something about myself: loving someone doesn’t give me control over their choices.
The Difference Between Control and Agency
Somewhere in there, I started to understand the difference between control and agency. Control is believing I can make this turn out the way I want. Agency is deciding how I meet what is true. The truth was that my children had their own lives to live. Their choices were theirs, including the ones I would have made differently.
I could keep trying to convince them and risk even more distance. Or I could look at what still belonged to me. My behavior belonged to me. So did my love, and showing up as the kind of father I wanted to be. And perhaps most importantly, my example belonged to me.
I still worried. I still disagreed. But I started to see that the strongest way to pass on what I believed was to live it, not to argue for it. That’s a real shift with someone you love. Living your values may not change their choices. That’s the surrender. But it’s also what keeps the door open.
I think parents run into this long before their children are grown. We spend years teaching them, protecting them, correcting them. Then, gradually, the job changes. They start making their own decisions, including some we’d never make.
Part of preparing our kids for life is preparing ourselves for it.
We want them to make good choices. But they’re also watching what we do when life doesn’t give us the choice we wanted: whether we wear ourselves out trying to control what isn’t ours, or put our energy into what still is.
This isn’t just about parenting. It’s true of every relationship in my life, and probably yours, too.
There are people we can’t change. Some apologies may never come. Some questions may never be answered. Some losses can’t be reversed. A friend keeps making the same mistake. A sibling stops calling. Or a parent never becomes the person we needed them to be.
Sometimes agency means doing something: setting a boundary, asking for help, admitting a mistake, starting to rebuild. Other times it means deciding that someone else’s choices no longer get to decide ours.
That isn’t the same as giving up. Giving up means deciding nothing matters. Agency means owning what does: how we respond, where we put our attention, the values we live by, the people we reach toward, and the next choice we make.
Choose Something Different
I can’t tell you I’ve always lived this, as a father or as a husband. I haven’t. But I can tell you that trying harder to control the outcome never brought me closer to my children, or to anyone else I love.
Eventually, we chose something different. We let our son know that we would always be there for him, no matter what. We didn’t have to agree with every choice he made, but we could accept that he had his own path to walk and that some things were his to work through, not ours to control. Today, our relationship is stronger than ever.
There will be times when we can’t choose what happens, or what another person does. We may not get the ending we hoped for. But before deciding we’re powerless, it’s worth asking one more question: What is still mine to choose?
The answer may be smaller than we’d like. But it may also be enough to begin changing the direction of our lives for the better.