When we were small our dad would take us to the park. I loved the swings. The one with the long chains and floppy seats. Dad would push us. I LOVED his pushes! He was so strong. Would push so high! He would push so high it felt as though I could touch the sky.
Those pushes were exciting. They were terrifying. The best part, though, of dad’s pushes is getting super high then jumping off, at the push’ highest point.
The trick was getting the landing right. You had to be ready for the ground, had to have your weight shifted right, arms stretched out, like airplane wings, to land on BOTH feet with a satisfying thump. Again. Do it again, dad!
The landings, yikes, those landings didn’t always go right. I can remember going so high, doing my airplane landing and then landing in a big heap, ego bruised, knees skinned.
One would think dad would have rushed over, scooped me up and kissed my boo boo. Yet, he didn’t. He roared with laughter and told me ‘get up and do it again!’. Made me so mad. Laughing at me. Was terrified to try again. But, mad enough at the laughter to want to prove that I COULD do it again. Darn it.
Stomped my way back to the swing, huffily flounced on the seat and demanded another push….
Up, up, up we went. Good yikes thought I saw heaven that time. Did a nice bellow and off I went. Flew like a bird, attempted my valiant landing and landed, in a heap, AGAIN!….*pout*…
The more I pouted, the more dad laughed and shouted ‘get up and do it again!’. That challenge made me mad. Made me mad!!!!
I stomped back to the swing, assumed the position and off I went. It took two or three tries but I felt so proud when I landed on my feet!
I will never forget that day. The way dad challenged me. How made his challenge made me. How DETERMINED his challenge made me. How proud I was that I made it.
I remembered that day, that challenge whenever I faced something I could not quite get or over come I would think back on that day, that challenge. I would recall the determination I had, to never give up, and would get on up, try the thing again. Would fail. Pout. And, would get up and ‘try it again’. There were times were I succeeded. Other times I failed, and miserably. Each time, I laughed at myself and reminded myself that I could do it.
I am still heeding dad’s call, to this day. ‘Get up and do it again!’
I share his words with you….. get on up and do it again! Try another relationship. Apply for a new job. Try that thing that has terrified you so. You CAN do it. What’s more, the attempts will show you so very many things about you: will introduce you to the tenacity in you, the grit in you, the joy in you, the conqueror in you, the humbleness in you. In either victory or defeat, you still win. You win either victory or experience. I have found the experience has been much more valuable, over the years, than that thing I had so coveted and never won/gained.
Get up and do it again. You got this.
cheering for you along with Him,