My family recently attended the Pinewood Derby, where we supported Mellow and my husband in their efforts to bring home the gold. We have been participating in said derby for several years now, ever since Energy turned 8, and each time proves yet another test of character for my boys. The weeks leading up to the event are spent in giddy anticipation as the boys plan, design and build the most amazing car the world has ever seen. The day of, however, often culminates in tears when their perfect car fails to bring home the gold.
This year was pretty typical; that is, at the end of the event, our scout was in tears. Despite the fact that Mellow's car actually did quite well, taking second in his Den and third overall, the only thing that stuck in his brain was that he didn't win. Consequently, he left the event believing he was a failure.
My husband and I tried to cheer him up. I told him about my disappointing week of rejection in my writing endeavors, thinking that since misery typically loves company, perhaps this knowledge would make him feel better. But he didn't care. Then my husband pointed out the fact that, since he was the one who actually did the cutting and physical building of the car, maybe he was worthless for making such lousy car. To this statement, Mellow agreed wholeheartedly (a very different reaction from what my husband had been hoping for), but still refused to be comforted.
Mellow calmed down eventually, but was never able to enjoy the second place trophy he brought home because he was dwelling so heavily on his loss. Mellow's reaction to his perceived failure, combined with my own despondency after a week of fruitless toil along the road to publication of my novel, got me thinking about rejection and how we handle it (or fail to handle it, as the case may be).
The thought has occurred to me more than once that perhaps I should give up on my dreams, since they sometimes seem so impossible to attain. But I have never been a quitter. Afraid and hesitant to take on challenges in the first place, yes, but not a quitter. Once I commit to something, I have a very hard time giving it up. So when I first decided to venture down the publishing path, it took a lot of courage for me to even admit I wanted to try. And I can't give up now.
So it seems I need to be taught a lesson in resilience and, as it happens, I have found the perfect teacher living right under my own roof. He is with me almost constantly, and he is less than 3 feet tall. Yes, my teacher is Caboose.
Toddlers have to be the most persistent creatures on the planet, and if you've ever tried to keep one from doing something they're bent on doing, then you know what I mean. If they've got their sights set on something, they won't give up on attaining it until the object of their desire is actually removed from their presence. And sometimes not even then.
For Caboose, his object of desire is the kitchen table. Climbing on it, that is. And since I can't physically remove our kitchen table from his presence, he never stops trying to get on it, no matter how many times he falls off, or how many times I snatch him away just before he succeeds. Often as I pull him off the table after he has eluded my so-called clever attempts at stopping him, I think how frustrating it must be for him to get so close and then have to start all over. Surely he'll soon realize it's a fruitless endeavor and give up, right? Wrong. As long as his goal is in sight, he will never stop reaching for it.
I've realized I can learn quite a lot from my tenacious toddler if I will let him teach me. Young children absolutely never give up--defeats don't deter them because they exist only in the present. If they can see a way to reach their goals, and sometimes even if they can't, they persevere. Because their failures are forgotten the moment they become history and the future is an incomprehensible concept, the only thing that's real for them is now. And now holds all the possibilities.
The take-away for me then, is that I can't let failures taint my future prospects. That's not to say I don't learn from my failures, but failure should not be a reason to quit trying. Caboose has learned a great many things from his failed table-climbing attempts: only do it when mom's not looking; step stools are portable and should be utilized whenever possible; if you push really hard on the kitchen chairs, they will move to where you want them; never attempt to get off the table without first looking to make sure there is a chair nearby; and other such useful tidbits. His failures have not stopped him, rather they've taught him how to modify future attempts to ensure a higher rate of success.
The challenge for me now is to take this lesson to heart and apply it in my own endeavors. And to teach this concept to my older children who have lost some of the tenacity of their youth. Now is the time to dream big, and now is the time to follow those dreams even when they seem impossible to reach. Failure should never be a reason to quit trying.
I resolve to live in the present, because the present is what holds the magic of possibility.
My Boy #3 had a teary moment at the end of the derby, too. He's a bit of a crybaby, anyway. That wasn't surprising. Enter Boy #2, #3's nearly constant tormentor, generally intolerant of tears. #2 put his arm around #3 and actually comforted him, and #3 felt better. Seeing that, from across the room, was worth all the pain of the derby! (For me. I can't speak for my husband...)
ReplyDeleteT--That's so sweet! Love it when our kids surprise us like that! By the way, I like your nickname. My friends in college used to call me that, too.
ReplyDeleteoh--those pinewood derbys! Poor Daniel always lost to the Allens--he got 2nd two years in a row! I never thought of a toddler as someone who persists but you give good evidence--very interesting post!
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