Are you like me? You love learning, but absolutely hate failing? Or maybe we hate looking stupid, or being embarrassed at our seemingly total lack of expertise or achievement.
This morning I read this terrific quote by Sir Winston Churchill: Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts.
Don't you love that! It may become my new mantra.
Years ago, I think it was when we were introduced to transactional analysis, I realized how important permission was to me. 'Course it could have been a little attached to Lt. Col. Daddy.
Anyway, being "given permission" to fail is really helpful to me. Knowing at least one human believed the important thing is to keeping going is affirming.
This past year has been a major roller coaster of learning, both in calling and career. The overwhelmingly hard days are when both are at their nadir. (No, not satyr. It's a fun word meaning the worst or lowest point. Not that satyr isn't a fun word, but a whole different tangent.) On those days, continuing, even with baby steps, can feel impossible. I want to bury my head or cry or just hold my cat and listen to her purr.
Retiring, but not really retired from education, has meant learning new systems for me, my job and our home. Moving from teaching in public to private schools has been an even bigger adjustment. Thankfully, the men in our household are flexible, forgiving and helpful with most of the baby steps of adapting to my morphing roles.
Our two oldest children are growing more and more like Tom everyday. One way they are like him is not readily giving compliments. So, when I broke down and asked Mary for blogging help, I was unprepared for one. Mary telling me that my learning curve with building a platform seemed straight up was so encouraging when I felt like I was falling more than taking steps forward.
If you're a regular visitor, you've endured my periodic whining about not being good at all this promotion, marketing, platform stuff. (BTW: Thanks so much for coming back!) Sometimes it feels like my baby steps keep landing me in a face plant. But once in a while, something works.
But I must never forget the One who empowers me to continue. Ultimately, He's the One who picks me up. The One who wipes my dirty hands and knees, and the tears from my face. He's the One who steadies me on my feet and cheers me on.
If you're learning something new, big or small, you don't have to do it alone. Take a lesson from Gracie's example and reach out to the One who loves you and that you can always trust to encourage your baby steps.