“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; And wisdom to know the difference.”

Reinhold Niebuhr’s “Serenity Prayer” was stitched on a plaque of some sorts, and hung from the wall of my grandmother’s Red Oak home many, many years ago. I never knew if it was done by her own hand or how it came to be on the wall, but I can remember reading the phrase and committing it to memory.

It’s one of those sayings that stick with you once you learn it.

Its earliest established date in written form is Niebuhr’s inclusion of it in a sermon in 1943, followed by its inclusion in a Federal Council of Churches book for army chaplains and servicemen in 1944.

The prayer became more widely known after being brought to the attention of Alcoholics Anonymous in 1941. It’s said the group’s co-founder, William Griffith Wilson, and the staff liked it so much, they had it printed out in modified form and handed around. It has been part of Alcoholics Anonymous ever since, and has also been used in other 12-step programs.

With all that said, it is a universal prayer. It’s traveled from the battlefield to the front of the Bible and all points in between. It could have come from Gran’s time in the Navy or given in comfort while father served in the Army, or at the passing of my step-grandfather. Who knows, but Tuesday morning, I had to battle a leaky toilet, whiny children and other eye-crossing, temper-raising aggravations – including a school conference – all before 9 a.m.

And as I walked to the car, the words slammed into my brain, almost as if God were annoyed with my annoyance and threw the lines down from Heaven. I found myself repeating them aloud, and calm came over me.

By 4 p.m., a phone call and not enough lines marked through on my to-do list had caused my frustration to once again rise to the top, and as I sat, staring at the blank page that would become my column, the words came to me again.

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; Courage to change the things I can; And wisdom to know the difference.”

I know I can’t change other people – how to act or react or present themselves; I can, however, control how I act in the face of those actions.

I’m going to keep repeating those words, over and over, when life – and those in it – makes my eyes cross.

Who knows, I might even put the phrase up on the billboard, so years later my children – or even grandchildren – might pause and wonder, and repeat and learn.