When something big happens, we want to know why.
Not just the facts, but the story underneath—the thing that explains it in a way we can carry or make sense of. In the way we tell the story to other people.
Sometimes, that seems easy: the light was red, the driver didn’t stop, accident, end of story.
But sometimes, we want a cause big enough to match the weight of the event. And that’s where attribution gets slippery.
When I was fourteen, my mom died.
It wasn’t sudden. We knew she was sick, but it still felt like the ground dropped out from under me.
My dad remarried quickly, then we moved from my childhood home between my sohpmore and junior years of high school. My parents refused to let me continue at Kearns High where all my friends were.
I hated both of them for it.
But our very first week in the neighborhood, I made a new friend, then a dozen more. They’re some of the best friends I’ve had in my life. I’m still good friends with several of them thirty years later. My future wife was among them. A bunch of us made the decision to spend two years in service, which became a foundation for so many good things that followed. I married that girl I met, and we’ve been together for 24 years.
If my mom hadn’t died, would any of that have happened?
I can’t answer that.
It’s the kind of question that sounds like it has an answer but doesn’t.
And yet, in my head, I’ve tied these events together. My mom died → we moved → I met my wife. I can see the line, even though I can’t prove it’s the only possible path.
That’s the hard part—the strange part—of attribution. It feels like finding the truth, but it’s often just drawing the map when the trip’s already over.
In faith, we’re often taught to give God credit for the good. I believe in that. I’ve thanked God for the blessings in my life more times than I can count. But I also don’t believe His hand moves in every single thing I do. I think He lets us work out a LOT on our own.
That belief softens the “need” to find someone to blame for the bad stuff. Some people attribute bad things to the “enemy of all righteousness.” Some say it’s just mortality, the human condition. I’ve seen people use attribution to hold their faith together, and others use it to tear their faith apart.
It’s not just in faith circles, though.
People do this everywhere.
A parent argues with their teenager, the teenager storms out, and later there’s an accident. The parent blames themselves. Logically, we know the argument didn’t cause the accident, but emotionally? The lines connect too easily.
A business fails, and the owner blames the economy. Or themselves. Or both. They tell the story in a way that feels right to them, even if it’s not the whole picture.
I’ve seen it in my work, too.
I’ve always felt blessed in my career, even in the hard years. My family has never wanted for shelter, food, clothing, or really much of what they just wanted.
I’ve worked crazy hard. I’ve been in the right place at the right time. I’ve kept my eyes open to opportunity.
When things go well, I can attribute it to my effort. Or to timing. Or to God. And if I’m honest, sometimes I pick whichever version of the story fits how I’m feeling that day.
The problem with attribution is that it can be too clean. Too certain.
It makes us feel like we’ve solved the puzzle when maybe we’ve only chosen the version we can live with or want to hold on to.
The opportunity in attribution is that it can give us a frame. It can help us hold joy without guilt, or grief without drowning in it.
But I have to remind myself — it’s a frame I’ve built. It’s not the full photograph.
I don’t know if my mother’s death set my entire life on its course or if I would have found my way to something similar without that loss. I don’t know if every career opportunity I’ve had has been a direct answer to prayer or the result of thousands of small, unremarkable, unrememberable choices.
I do know that the stories I tell myself about why things happen shape the way I see the world.
And maybe that’s the bigger thing — less about finding the one “true” cause, and more about noticing what my attributions say about me and how I view the world.
Am I giving myself grace, or am I looking for someone to blame?
Am I seeing possibility, or am I trying to protect myself from disappointment?
I don’t have those answers yet.
And, for now, that’s enough.
Thanks for reading, and before you go. . .
I’m Aaron Pace. I write from the middle of things — life, business, fatherhood, faith, and the slow work of becoming someone I can live with. Not as an expert, but as someone trying to pay attention.
If this piece resonated with you, I’d be honored if you followed along here on Medium. I write — not because I’ve arrived, but because I’m finally moving again.
If any of this resonates with you, I wrote a book you might appreciate.
It’s called You Don’t Have to Escape to Be Free — a collection of my reflections on identity, meaning, and building a life I don’t want to run away from.
You can check it out here:
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