One of the first things students learn in statistics classes is that correlation does not imply causation. In other words, just because two things are related, it does not mean that one caused the other.
Our little Benjamin has been reminding me of this lately. His loving older siblings love to help him be happy—especially David. David is a boy of many silly faces, and he has the knack at getting Benjamin to laugh.
However, after playing their silly face --> laughter --> silly face --> laughter… game for only a short time, Benjamin apparently concludes that his explosions of laughter cause the silly faces, and not vice versa.
As this process progresses, however, the cause (silly faces) becomes, too, a reaction; likewise, the reaction (exploding laughter) becomes a cause. We, as happy spectators, witness a fantastic positive feedback loop where our two boys go back and forth with laughter and silly faces, with each progressive round being more joyful and happy than the last: a sort of perpetual motion machine (we’ve nearly got it!).
Their fun game continues for some time until both collapse in a heap of wiggling giggles.
It really is fun to watch.
On a not-as-funny note, I’ve been suffering from terrible allergies. This season, I’m hearing many proclaim the virtues of local honey on allergy relief. I’m presently struggling with understanding exactly how the whole process is supposed to help, but I bought some local honey anyway (mostly for my poor wife who can’t take antihistamines).
Because my allergy symptoms vary in intensity (pain) considerably from day to day, it’s difficult for me to ascribe causation to any particular treatment—let alone correlation.
Well, even if the local honey doesn’t “cure” allergies, at least it tastes good.
My thoughts on correlation and causation pop up in other areas of life, too. I’ve noticed that when I’m having a hard time with something, I blame myself. On the other hand, when things are going really well, I express thanks to God. When I do this, I place implied causation for bad things on myself, and implied causation for successes on God. (I guess it’s not nearly as bad as the opposite!)
What I hope to take away from this observation is that I need to trust in the Lord more (see Prov. 3:5-6)—to turn to him in good times and bad, and not simply to recognize His hand in my life in good times; I want to notice His love when times are hard, too.
President Eyring shared his thoughts on this process in his talk, “O Remember, Remember” (link to article), and parts are shown in this short video clip:
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Supermom
Our family was recently hit by a fast-moving sickness. One minute you were fine, the next you were ill, and then an hour later, you are fine again.
David was the first victim. He became ill near dinner, got sick (threw up), and went to bed about an hour later right as rain. I, similarly, followed the same cycle a few days later in the afternoon. But poor Maryann got hit in the night.
Nighttime is the worst time to get sick. It’s dark, you’re tired, and the silence of the night makes every disgusting sickness-related noise you make seem ten times as loud as in the day.
Maryann was being a wonderful mother, feeding our little Benjamin in the middle of the night, when the sickness hit her. I awoke to her running through our bedroom towards the bathroom. After a few minutes of being sick, she wiped her mouth and returned to finish feeding Benjamin.
While her return trip wasn’t nearly as fast, nor were her knees as solid, it was at that moment that I was reminded that I live with Supermom! (Supermaryann just doesn’t have the same marketable ring to it.)
Sure, I know she does super things, but there is a distinct difference doing super things and being super (read: being Supermom); this is another practical example of the difference between “do” and “be” (link to previous post here).
I asked myself, “Self, would you have what it takes to do what she did?” I’m not sure if I would, but the question was flawed. I should have asked, “Self, are you the type of person that she is?”
Can you see the difference?
I can, and I’m grateful that I have a superhero in my home. Not only does my sweet wife do great things, but more importantly, she is great.
I'm grateful for the reminders that I come upon each day (like this one) which remind me to not only do more, but be better. I'm grateful for Chirst who makes lasting, meaningful change possible; He did/does great things, but more importantly, He is great.
David was the first victim. He became ill near dinner, got sick (threw up), and went to bed about an hour later right as rain. I, similarly, followed the same cycle a few days later in the afternoon. But poor Maryann got hit in the night.
Nighttime is the worst time to get sick. It’s dark, you’re tired, and the silence of the night makes every disgusting sickness-related noise you make seem ten times as loud as in the day.
Maryann was being a wonderful mother, feeding our little Benjamin in the middle of the night, when the sickness hit her. I awoke to her running through our bedroom towards the bathroom. After a few minutes of being sick, she wiped her mouth and returned to finish feeding Benjamin.
While her return trip wasn’t nearly as fast, nor were her knees as solid, it was at that moment that I was reminded that I live with Supermom! (Supermaryann just doesn’t have the same marketable ring to it.)
Sure, I know she does super things, but there is a distinct difference doing super things and being super (read: being Supermom); this is another practical example of the difference between “do” and “be” (link to previous post here).
I asked myself, “Self, would you have what it takes to do what she did?” I’m not sure if I would, but the question was flawed. I should have asked, “Self, are you the type of person that she is?”
Can you see the difference?
I can, and I’m grateful that I have a superhero in my home. Not only does my sweet wife do great things, but more importantly, she is great.
I'm grateful for the reminders that I come upon each day (like this one) which remind me to not only do more, but be better. I'm grateful for Chirst who makes lasting, meaningful change possible; He did/does great things, but more importantly, He is great.
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