Of course, if Elvis had been born in Sudan and died at the age of nine, never knowing what a guitar was, the struggle wouldn’t have really helped. In that case, it’s just all tragedy.

There is a line there somewhere. We are an odd blending of nature and nurture, of our circumstances and our wills.

When I read this poem by Ian Thomas, I kept thinking about how incredibly fortunate I have been… and how I’ve likely squandered the privilege and opportunity that I’ve received—via the “sperm lottery” or divine providence or whatever.

But here’s a different perspective:

How much of who we are is defined by our struggle?

How many people end up doing great things because they were written off, and refused to accept their dismissal?, and how many more have been given every chance possible, yet refuse to rise to a difficult challenge in their life? That’s a question that can keep me awake at night, especially as a parent. I want my children and grandchildren to have every chance possible to be everything they can be, to realize their dreams. But how much of the satisfaction of realizing a dream comes from recognizing their failures, and the sacrifices made along the way? Am I doing them a favor if I make the path smooth for them?, or am I making them soft, ill-prepared to take on a serious challenge?

There’s a line in there somewhere, at a different location for every person. The challenge is investing enough time, on an individual basis, to find it and with wisdom, to encourage and empower them – sometimes with a boot in the seat of the pants – to be all they can be.