Powerful on Purpose
Because melted cheese shouldn't be a battle...
We were already down by multiple touchdowns, and things weren’t looking much better. One of my players had just gotten beat on a reverse—he bit hard on the fake. So before the next defensive play, I pulled him aside and gave him a quick coaching point:
“Stay home.”
The ball was snapped. The handoff went the other way. My player stood completely still—watched the whole thing happen like he bought a ticket.
I asked him, “Why didn’t you go after him?”
He looked at me and said matter-of-factly, “You told me to stay home.”
I quietly said, “I did,” turned, and walked back to the sideline.
Sometimes, you don’t have to yell. The moment does all the yelling for you.
Parenting, marriage, leading—none of it comes with a playbook where you get to explain what you meant after the fact. Especially when someone’s already running the wrong direction.
We’ve got four kids. The laundry alone is a living, breathing organism slowly trying to take over our house. Every time I think we’re ahead, I find a mystery pile of socks reproducing in the hallway like gremlins that got wet.
In a house like ours, things can go from “everyone’s fine” to “we’re unraveling” in the time it takes to argue about the definition of a clean room.
But there’s one phrase we repeat in this house—like a verbal anchor in the chaos:
“I can only control myself.”
It sounds like a simple mantra. But lived out? It’s a superpower.
Being the grown-up often means being the thermostat, not the thermometer.
One adjusts to the environment.
The other sets the tone.
We’ve all been there—when the laundry is Everest, the homework’s been “forgotten” again, and your child insists they like cheese but not melted cheese. (And you’re rethinking everything you thought you knew about logic.)
It’s in those moments when you realize the mood of the house can change based on how you respond.
Not react.
Respond.
There’s a difference. One is emotional. The other is intentional.
There’s a kind of calmness I try to bring to our home—not because I always feel calm, but because my people need me to be.
When storms roll in at night, my kids can sleep soundly. Why?
Because they know I’m up, watching the radar.
My oldest has said it more than once:
“If Daddy’s calm, then everything is OK.”
Sometimes I am calm.
Sometimes I’m just a really good actor.
But either way, that calm is a gift I want to give—to my kids, to my wife, to myself.
The goal isn’t perfection.
It’s steadiness.
A strength that says, “This house might be crazy, but I’m not going to add to it.”
And no, I don’t wear cargo shorts.
I don’t drink coffee.
I’m basically a parenting unicorn.
But I do have a stare that says, “I’m fine,” and means, “This house better get it together.”
I don’t always get it right. But I’m learning that real strength is showing up with purpose, not just power.
Your Turn
This week, whether you’re chasing toddlers or teenagers, coworkers or chaos, remember this:
You’re not just reacting to life—you’re setting the tone.
You don’t have to fix everything.
You just have to be the steady in the swirl.
Because at the end of the day, I can only control myself. And that’s more than enough.