It was a hot, hazy August day in Virginia Beach, and one that taught me a lesson about my impossible desire to be in control.

Neil, Gina and I were on a mini-vacation before she started kindergarten. We had a cozy base camp on the beach with chairs and umbrellas, a well-stocked cooler and a giant pail of sand toys. We even invited a babysitter along, so Neil and I could truly relax.

At one point, I realized Gina and the sitter weren’t anywhere in sight. “Neil, do you see Lisa and Gina?” He scoured the shoreline but couldn’t see them either. “They probably just went on a walk to look for shells. They’ll be right back,” he said calmly as he popped a beer can and settled back into his beach chair.

After about 15 minutes they still hadn’t reappeared, and I got worried. “I’m going to look for them,” I told Neil, and headed off in the direction I last saw them.  Along the way I saw plenty of 5-year-olds picking up shells and building castles with imaginative abandon, but no Gina. I saw plenty of teenagers splashing tentatively on the shore, discretely checking around to see who was watching them. No Lisa. The tide was coming in and the crowd was getting thicker as the afternoon sun beat down on my back. I could feel my skin getting burned but it was not as hot as my fuming mood.

Almost a mile down the beach, I finally saw Gina’s pink and yellow bathing suit marching along the water’s edge with Lisa trailing about 5 feet behind her. I ran to catch them and angrily yelled, “What are you doing this far down the beach!?”

“She wouldn’t come back when I told her to,” Lisa reported. “I figured the best I could do was follow along behind her until she eventually got tired.”

“Lisa, you are in charge, not her. You should have just thrown her over your shoulder and dragged her back.” In all fairness, Lisa was a tiny girl and probably couldn’t have done that, but the fact that she let a little kid boss her around made me furious. “You have got to learn to control people” I insisted repeatedly on the walk back. At one point in my lecture I noticed the look on her face. She said with her eyes what her mouth was too respectful to say out loud: Mrs. Arnold, you can’t control people! You should know that!

She was right of course, but for me, it was a lesson long in coming. I could have saved myself a lot of heartache over the years if I’d learned it earlier. No matter how much I want to help, no matter how much I think I know better, no matter how good my intentions, the only person I can control is myself. Can you relate to my struggle? The fact is, admitting our powerlessness over people and situations is tough, but accepting it removes a heavy burden that isn’t ours to carry. We don’t have the ability – or the right – to “fix” other people. We can walk beside them, but we don’t get to choose the direction they take. Just like Lisa did with Gina, all we can do is follow along and help when we’re needed. Lisa was the smart one that day after all.