“People who don’t stay down after they fall or are tripped are often troublemakers. Hard to control. Which is the best kind of dangerous possible.” — Brené Brown, Rising Strong
My son Lucas had a rough day at the park. He must have fallen at least five times—maybe more. After each tumble, my heart raced as I feared for his physical and emotional well-being. Isn’t it gut-wrenching to see someone you care for stumble? I found myself questioning our decision to come to the park in the first place. Maybe we should have just stayed home, cozy and carefree. But it was Lucas who had suggested, “Let’s create our own obstacle course like on American Ninja Warrior!” Now, he was frustrated and defeated.
His younger brother, Ben, had breezed through the course in less than three minutes, completing each challenge with ease. “Way to go, Ben!” I cheered. “You’re a true ninja warrior!”
Then it was Lucas’s turn. After a shaky start, he navigated through most of the course until he reached the final obstacle—a narrow beam. Barefoot, he stepped onto it, only to lose his balance and fall almost immediately. Determined, he crawled up the beam like a monkey, only to tumble again.
“Come on, buddy!” I encouraged. “You can do it!” He got back up, fell again, and again. His face reddened with frustration, sweat dripping down his forehead, and I could see his patience dwindling as the seconds ticked away on my stopwatch.
Lucas’s father and I exchanged worried glances; we knew how this would likely end. We could see the tears welling in his eyes and heard the frustrated groans escaping his lips. This was a familiar scene—one we’d witnessed countless times before. Eventually, he would likely give up, overwhelmed by emotion. I couldn’t blame him; I would have thrown in the towel long ago.
But just when it seemed like he might break, Lucas climbed back onto the beam one last time. Instead of giving up, he wrapped his arms and legs around the beam and began to crawl up—albeit upside down, more like a sloth than a monkey. Slowly, he inched his way to the top.
“Woo-hoo!” we cheered. “You did it!”
“What was my time?” he asked, and my heart sank when I realized Ben had beaten him by a significant margin. I braced myself for the inevitable meltdown. Losing to a younger sibling can sting, after all.
But Lucas surprised us all. Instead of sulking, he lay back on the bench to catch his breath and then sat up with a smile. “Ben, I can’t believe how fast you climbed that last obstacle. That was tough! Great job!” My husband and I were taken aback—where was the tantrum? Where was the anger? Lucas seemed genuinely proud of his effort and happy for his brother’s success.
As we walked back to the starting line, we congratulated him—not for winning or achieving something extraordinary, but for getting back up after every fall. This was the real victory; he had shown perseverance.
We often instruct our children to be brave, to work hard, and to take risks. Brené Brown reminds us in Rising Strong that choosing to dare comes with its fair share of challenges. It’s not always pretty; it’s often a messy process filled with sweat, tears, and frustration. As parents, we tend to celebrate achievements, but we may gloss over the struggles that lead to those victories.
Watching a loved one fall is tough. We want to shield them from pain and disappointment, and we focus on their successes—the high grades, the sports victories, the prestigious awards. However, I wonder if, in doing so, we inadvertently send the message that falling is synonymous with failure. We might overlook the hard work, the bruised egos, and the battles fought along the way.
Earlier this summer, Lucas pitched in his first baseball game. I was anxious about him walking batters and potentially leaving the mound in tears. But he struck out three batters in a row after a rocky start. The cheers erupted, and I was thrilled, but I still felt a greater sense of pride in what had transpired that hot afternoon at the park. It’s essential for Lucas to remember that he can rise again after falling, that hard work matters just as much as the outcomes.
What he accomplished at the park, with all its ups and downs, is worthy of celebration. He dared greatly, faced challenges head-on, and emerged with both grit and grace. For more on parenting and resilience, check out this insightful blog post. And for those considering at-home options, you can find reliable insemination kits at a reputable online retailer.
In conclusion, fostering resilience in our children is about more than just celebrating their successes; it’s about encouraging them to embrace the process, falls included. Let’s teach them that perseverance is as valuable as the outcomes we so often celebrate.
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