Try, Try Again

My mom always told me I could do whatever I wanted. “Sure you can Kathy,” she would say. Then pat me on the back and leave me with her encouraging words.

I thought I could dance. I tried. I went to dance class. We practiced ballet and tap. I even had the cute little shoes. But my teacher told my mom I wasn’t very good and couldn’t be in the class any more.

I moved on to soccer. Fun sport. I thought I could do it. I was goalie and fielded the ball with my head – by accident. After that, I sat on the side.

Later, I thought I could sew. I tried it. And guess what? I was pretty good at it. Success.

In high school, I tried out for Honor Choir. I was sure the choir teacher would overlook my untrained voice and see right into the soul of the song I was singing. No.

Then I thought I could try out for Pom. I had the confidence of my mother behind me, after all. I practiced. And practiced. And practiced. I was positive that the fluid motions would somehow kick in and make my hips do their thing. That somehow my inability to follow a beat would be swallowed up in my smile. I got to try outs and forgot everything. I stood there, clapping and smiling, for the whole three minutes of song, while the cute girls around me bounced to the rhythm. I failed. Again.

Later, I tried out for a baccalaureate speech. And I made it. Success.

I tried out for plays, choirs, bands, clubs and more, but never made it. Except for the super important times. The times that mattered.

I had no shot in a million at getting into BYU, but I felt I needed to go. So I tried. Success.

Statistics and cynicism stood in the way of all possibility that hubby and I would end up together. Who marries their high school sweetheart anyway? But we tried. And we did it. Success.

We moved into our home, off of a busy street that feeds into an even busier street. I told myself I would get speed humps installed. I tried. And tried. And tried. It wasn’t easy. But guess what? Success.

Four children down the road, I still didn’t have my degree. But I wanted it. So I tried. It took me a while, class by class, but I did it. Success.

My life is not the only one filled with stories of success and failure. It is not the only one where hard lessons were learned during disappointment and confidence gained through triumph.

History is FULL of stories when people went up against the odds. When everything should have made them fail, and yet, somehow, they succeeded.

So, when do we try? Do we try only when we KNOW we will succeed? Or do we take each experience as it comes to us full force. Jumping in with the confidence only a mother could give us and try.

Do we give in before the fight is ever fought? Do we surrender before we ever march?

Absolutely not.

Ours is a life of choice. Of freedom. And we can try all we want. Failure will definitely come and it will be painful. But success will also come. And it will be even more celebrated.

To not try to do something, simply because we think it may not work, or we will not succeed is only giving in to the failure. If I am going to fail, I would like to do it fully. I would like to learn my lessons as I fail, so that when I do succeed, I will have deserved it.

Currently, this is my fight. And it may fail… but it may succeed.