Perserverance

There are a multitude of things I would like my children to learn in this life. If I were to boil it down, though, to just a few things that I've had on my mind lately, those things would include the following:

1. Be nice. That means to everyone. You don't need to be a pushover, but know that everyone's life has tough moments, and everyone deserves a little kindness.

2. The world doesn't owe you anything. I think those who have a sense of self-entitlement are wretched. I hope I can teach my girls that it's okay to have to work for what you want, and that we should give to others and not just sit back and see what we can collect.

3. Another's good fortune doesn't diminish your chances of having an equally good fortune. You know when something really awesome happens for a friend or acquaintance, and you tell yourself you are really happy for them, but really on the inside you are thinking, "Why in the world don't I have that?" I've done it, which makes it obvious that this is something I'm personally working on. I want my girls to know that everything good in this life is abundant and available to all: another person's happiness doesn't take anything away from them.

4. Don't quit and always try your hardest. I can't count the times I've had someone say to me, "I wish I could play piano..." or "I would love to be able to run..." and I relatively consistently reply, "I teach lessons," or "I leave for the gym at 4:30- want me to pick you up?" Shockingly, no one has ever taken me up on either. I have some natural talent for music, but I really have no natural athletic ability, and thus my success on both counts has come down to the fact that I have outworked a lot of people. When others have decided to quit piano or give up on fitness, I've squeezed in a few more miles, a few more lessons, or a few more hours of practice. I've no more God-given talent than most.

Kate's been a shining example of #4. She has loved gymnastics lately, and so when she asked to go to a three day gymnastics camp I quickly agreed. Although the flier stated the kids would be working on a variety of skills, it was understood that this was a back handspring camp- they would spend most of the time trying to achieve that. It was a very big deal, and at the end of each camp session, those who had achieved their back handsprings either on the tramp or mat got to demonstrate them for the whole class and then received a special prize.

Three days of camp for Kate, and no back handspring. She was devastated. For once, I played it cool.

The night after the last day of camp, Kate was jumping on the tramp, and I told her to try for her back handspring. She half-heartedly went for it, and of course fell on her head. A little encouragement from the on-lookers was necessary, and then this:

Honestly, I'm more proud of her than I would have been if she had performed a perfect back handspring the first day of camp, because she worked and worked; she felt a little mini-failure; she tried again and didn't give up; she finally succeeded. She's been back handspring-ing all over the neighborhood, so I know she feels the accomplishment too- I'm a little grateful that it didn't come easy for her, because I think she learned something important.