Dear Terry,

Hey man. How’s it been lately? Can’t imagine what you’re up to right now as you read this. I hope it hasn’t been too long since you’ve taken a look at this letter. There’s some pretty important stuff in here that I really hope you’ve remembered over the years.

First of all, I just want you to think back to that summer in 2017—after you’d graduated college and you’d only just nailed down your first apartment. Remember how it felt to start to stand on your own two feet, to make it through from day to day on your own?

Trick question—remember how you didn’t do it all on your own? I sure hope so, seeing as how Caity is most likely right next you as you read this.

So look—here’s my point. I want you to think back to when you didn’t have everything under control like you wished you did. I want you to remember how it felt to brave your way through every single day, just hoping and praying that you were doing it right—adulting. Think about how grateful you felt for every single day that went by where you actually made it through alright.

Remember just how good it felt to hold Caity close at the end of a long day. If I know you, that’s still the best part of your day. I know for a fact that you love Caity even more than I do at this current moment in time, even though that’s flat-out impossible for me to even fathom right now.

Depending on when you’re reading this, kids may or may not be bounding their way around the house right now. If they aren’t, that’s just fine—we’ve always insisted that every family and every person moves at their own pace. Kids will come along when they’re meant to. And if the little half-pints have already come along, just remember what it was like to be as little and awestruck and helpless as they are. Think of the kind of father and guide that you needed all those years ago—then do your level best to be that man for your children.

And don’t sweat the details, seriously. If I know one thing about you, it’s that you worry way too much. In case you’ve forgotten, we were never meant to have a spirit of fear. Think of it this way: if you constantly have the impulse to stop and think about whether or not you’re doing anything right—your job, your marriage, your role as a father—take some comfort in the fact that you’re still asking that question. You’re still asking yourself how you can improve. As long as you’re still seeking to improve, you will improve. You have been this entire time. Don’t preoccupy yourself with being a great man—just work as hard as you can to be a good one. Let others decide whether or not you were great.

Last thoughts: Love all. Trust a few. Do wrong to none and good to all.

Best,

Terry