I liked blue, it may have been an obvious choice for a little boy, but it had appeal. It was dark, but not as dark as night. Not colorless.

Kids start to form their identities with questions like that. After the early questions, which focus on likes and dislikes, decisions we make gain depth.

As questions like "Who are my friends?" and "What do I think is cool?" start to surface we begin to define who we are. We pick hobbies that become part of our identities. ("I am a baseball player," "a Boy Scout," etc.)

Further still down the road we ask ourselves questions like "Am I a good person?", "How will I make my mark?" and "Who will I marry?"

Then we start to take control of our circumstances: "Where shall I live?" and "Do I create a family of my own?"

We spend our lives searching for answers. It sometimes feels like a treadmill. After one problem is solved, it’s quickly replaced by another.

The way off the treadmill only appears once we realize that all of these little puzzles eventually come together and add up to reveal the big picture. It isn’t until this happens-later in life- that we can tackle concepts like justice and truth.

On their own the puzzle pieces look inconsequential. They look like nonsense. But taken together they provide the continuity we need.

Things start to make sense when I consider that I am the same little boy who liked blue, joined the Boy Scouts, likes Jeeps and married a woman who also likes Jeeps.

Past decisions provide a context that allows me to view life as a narrative. Philosophical issues are just beginning to crystallize for me as I watch my new son discover the world around him.

Whatever our choices, they have value against the randomness of every day. They provide us with the very sense of purpose we struggle for as we head to our next set of questions.