Embracing Failure

My hand shook as I signed the waiver. I could hear the sounds of the other skiers through the open door. I hadn’t been on skis in close to 20 years. The last time I went skiing I was a middle schooler who felt abandoned and lonely on the side of a hill. The tweak in my knee was enough to send me to the lodge for the remainder of our school trip. I was embarrassed, and full of shame. So that was the day I stopped trying new things. It was a conscious choice that I made, to keep me safe, to keep my heart safe. If I couldn’t do it with or as good as everyone else, I would simply not do it.

I gave up a lot of hobbies. Hiking, biking, playing hockey with the neighborhood boys. I remember at a church camp they played capture the flag and I hid in the bathroom. The more I excused myself, the more experiences I lived that contributed to the lie that new things were not safe. 

A couple of years ago I was on a date. I was in the middle of a traumatic season and was just starting to deal with it. I had no business being on a date but went anyways. The poor guy was so kind. At one point he asked me, “If you could tell me one thing about yourself what would it be?” I could have answered it so many ways, chosen a fun answer, a deep answer…a flirty answer. But no. I said, “Ummmmmm…I like plans…” 

The worst. 

 I knew it. He knew it. 

It was my wakeup call, I became determined to find the things that bring me life again. Enough with shame, enough with disappointment, enough with trying to protect my own heart. I remembered how much I used to love hiking. So that is where I started. Things weren’t always easy. However, I kept going. Even when I looked ridiculous. Even when people made mean comments. Even when I had to take more breaks. Even when I was sore the next day. This summer I explored breath taking trail, after breath taking trail and it felt like a song of victory. 

However, my definition of victory is often far short of what God’s definition is. While hiking a couple of weeks ago God told me that He would be giving me more opportunities to try new hobbies. When I was invited to go skiing, I knew this was one of those moments. 

 I wasn’t good. I spent most of the night on the bunny hill, and an eight-year-old had to help me out of my skis. When I did choose to go down the real hill, I fell…a lot.  After my second fall I paused. I looked around. I took it all in. I checked in with my heart. I was okay. I was doing alright. I was challenged, but I was having fun.  It was messy fun, and I was sure to be sore the next day, but I was having fun. So, I purposed in my heart that I would keep going even if I looked ridiculous. I never did make it down the “real” hill without falling. I didn’t graduate myself to the next hill. I never took the “I am horrified look” off my face. Yet, I am so proud. I embraced failure and found something that I enjoyed doing in the process.