Perseverance:
“Give it another try.
Come on, honey. You can do this!”
I cheered as our daughter tried to run up the slide. The smell of lilac hung thick in the air while
large, fluffy, white clouds danced through the azure spring sky. Maya had seen a bigger kid run up the slide
and she wanted to try. Screams of glee
sounded in my ears as other children ran around playing tag and enjoying their
time at the park, but Maya was oblivious to anything but that slide.
Her
little chubby legs would take her a few steps up the steep incline, but every
time she would slide back down. After
about her tenth try, my husband and son came over from the swings. She kept trying as Tom and I shared a smile
and kept encouraging her. She wasn’t
quite 3 years old yet, but she oozed determination with each attempt.
We
chatted and chased her younger brother around while she kept going. After about 15 minutes I realized she was not
going to quit, and I started actually watching her. Each time she would start a few feet away from
the bottom of the slide, take a big deep breath and then leap into action. She
would get about half way up before sliding back down over and over and over
again. Sometimes she would get a little
further, but pretty soon tears began streaming down her face. She would just wipe them off and try
again. My husband and I were in awe.
Soon we
started discussing in hushed tones how to help her. Should we just give her a hand? All it would take was a little pressure on
her back and we could help her get to the top, but she had not asked for our
help. She hadn’t even acknowledged we
were watching. This was between her and
the slide. Who were we to interfere? Somehow we understood that if we helped at
this point it could do more harm than good. So we started cheering-- chanting her name
over and over and encouraging her.
Closer
and closer she came to the top with each try now. She was SO close! It was heart breaking and somehow uplifting
to watch her persevere. As a society we
preach the idea of perseverance, but they never tell us about how hard it is to
watch someone in the process. When you’re
the one doing the work you know why and you get to enjoy the outcome. My husband and I stood as bystanders watching
the pain of failure after failure; seeing how close she was coming each time
and somehow trying to will her to the top.
She
never once gave up. She never even took
a break. She spent over 20 minutes and
100s of attempts to get to the top of that slide. Pride and relief flooded us when her little
legs finally landed at the top. She had
done it! She stood at the top doing her
victory dance and squealing in delight.
Her dad grabbed her up in a giant hug and spun her around as we all
clapped and cheered. Her face floods with pride and happiness even now when I
mention this story. I don’t know if she
remembers it or if her memory is based on her dad and I telling and retelling
the story, but it doesn’t matter. The lessons
and effect are the same for all of us.
This
experience taught us all so much. Even
now when things get difficult as she takes her first college course at the age
of 14, we remind her of the slide. She
has learned not to give up, and that hard work pays off. We have learned that even though it may be excruciating
to watch, letting her fail is more powerful than any hand on the back could
ever be. It is so hard to know when to
help and when to let our children fail.
I would argue this is one of the single most difficult things of parenting
once they get past the infant stage. Ultimately,
we decided not to help because she had not asked for it and it wasn’t a matter
of her safety. I am so glad we made that
choice.
