Celebrate the Wins

My daughter stepped onto the javelin runway. The field appeared to be marked incorrectly, but she was determined to be in the top six and claim her place at nationals.

Her warm up throw sailed out of the sector (the area inside the lines indicating if the javelin lands “inbounds” or not). Her brother walked over and coached her on how to correct her throw to accommodate the wonky lines. For her, a leftie, this proved to be more difficult than the rest of the competitors because the makeshift right line was blowing in the wind, altering what was “inbounds” as the direction of the wind changed.

Each thrower was allowed six attempts. Six times my daughter stepped onto the runway, ran down it with her practiced run/crossover approach, and threw her javelin as precisely as possibly without stepping over the foul line.  

I watched while holding my breath. My emotions were all over the place, as this was the last away meet I would travel to. My girl neared the end of her track and field career and would go to nationals without me. Additionally, her dad/coach was not on site. From having attended track and field events with my family for over a decade, I knew the field had been haphazardly marked and the lines didn’t reflect an accurate measurement. I debated what to do if one of her attempts was called foul because of those awkward lines.

Attempt one. In. Mark. Great. I wrote it down.

Attempt two. In. Mark. Slightly farther. Great. I wrote it down.

I turned to my son. “How is she doing?”

“She threw a personal record, and she’s in third place.” Hmmm. I hadn’t noticed. I turned toward my daughter and gave her a thumbs up.

Attempt three. Out of the sector. By inches. Eek. “Excuse me.” I projected my voice for the official to hear me. “I’d like to protest. I don’t think the field is marked correctly. Can you please measure the throw?” My hands shook. I heard some excuse from the official. The throw would not be measured. Darn. I failed. And I looked like a fool.

I walked toward my daughter ready to apologize, hoping I hadn’t messed up her concentration.

“Thanks, Mom!” she yelled before I reached her. She wore a huge smile. “All the throwers are glad you said something.” Okay then. Well worth it.

Attempt four. In. Mark. Slightly shorter than the second attempt. No need to write it down.

Attempt five. In. Mark. Still short of her longest mark.

Last attempt. Out of the sector. By a lot. Foul. No matter. She had hit a personal record, captured a bronze medal, and secured her place at the national meet. A celebration was in order.

We stopped for ice cream to celebrate her wins of the season and track career.

Perspective

As I reflected on that meet, I realized my daughter only threw four “good” throws out of six. A 67% accuracy rate. Two weren’t good enough to count. But we didn’t dwell on those two throws. Instead we celebrated the ones she nailed. We especially focused on the one in which she had surpassed all her other throws up to this point in her life. We celebrated the wins.

And yet, when children attempt and fail in other areas of life, we are inclined to dwell on those failures. I’m guilty. I’ve set standards for my children and expected them to hit the mark each and every time. And when they fell short, even one out of six tries, I was disappointed, which led to their discouragement.  

When our children are dealing with a serious issue, like watching pornography, and we know how important it is to “get it right,” to stay on task, to move forward, we subconsciously communicate that we expect perfection, for them to “get it right” the first time and every time after. We tend to watch their every move and analyze each step they take.

But they are watching us too. When they sense we are disappointed, they feel rejected. When they read dissatisfaction in our facial expressions or body language, they believe they have failed us. When they perceive frustration or anger, they feel shame and guilt.

So what’s the answer?

Celebrate the wins.

In the life of a javelin thrower, four “inbound” throws out of six attempts is a good day. If one of those is a personal record, it’s a great day. In the life of someone struggling with pornography, a day of saying “no” could possibly be a good day, even if they stumbled the day before. So celebrate the wins. And encourage them the next time they falter by reminding them how far they’ve come.

Celebrate your own wins. When you bite your tongue instead of lashing out, consider it a step in a positive direction. When you forget to check in with your child one day after persevering with check-ins for the past four weeks, remind yourself that you achieved your goal 27 out of 28 times. And that’s cause for celebration.

When you go to bat for your child (like I did at the track meet) and your actions appear fruitless or ineffective, celebrate your willingness to be your child’s advocate, and to cheer and support them. Who knows? They might be grateful you stood up for them. And maybe those around will notice too.

Thanks for joining these difficult conversations. Will you join me in spreading the word about the dangers of pornography and the impact it is having on our children and us as parents? Please share this post on social media. And be sure to subscribe below for updates to the blog and a FREE PDF download.