I love a good memoir to get me thinking about my own life. A few weeks ago I started the founder of Nike, Phil Knight’s memoir, Shoe Dog. It’s been pretty good. What I love most about it though is like any good story, it doesn’t skip the hard parts. In fact, I’m nearly three quarters into the book and the whole story thus far seems pretty difficult (with a few bright spots mixed in). Of course hindsight is 20/20 and it’s easy to look back and tell a story of overcoming. But what about when you’re right in the thick of things? How do you tell that story? More specifically, how do you honor the pain of what’s difficult and also appreciate the glory of what’s beautiful?
That’s where I find myself right now. Life is full. Some days are longer than others, but they all seem to carry a weight of expectation for something. Mind you difficult doesn’t mean bad, it just means more. Sometimes I find myself laying in bed at night wondering, calculating, trying to plan my way towards a future that I can’t dictate. I think we’d all like to operate with the assurance that everything we’re currently doing will ultimately work out. But that’s not how life works. We’re sort of all flying blind together. The best we can do is honor our own stories as they unfold, and give ourselves (and each other) necessary grace.
Last week my daughter London experienced one of life’s many disappointments. She ran for student council and lost the vote. She was so sure that she would win, she’d written her speech which she delivered with conviction to her peers. And she was crushed when they didn’t choose her. It felt like a rejection. It felt like failure, because to her it was. London’s nickname is Power, because she does everything with massive energy and conviction. She also has a strong sense of justice which she’s learning how to channel.
When she came home she was despondent and furious. While consoling her she said her heart was broken and she ripped up her speech because she said it reminds her of failure. Same baby girl, same. Maybe it’s because I’m her father and it hurts me to see my daughters in pain. Or, perhaps it’s because I’m worried about how my own story ends. I hate that feeling of rejection, almost as much as she hates losing. But, I didn’t want her story to end there. I want to give her a chance to be the narrator of her own story.
So together we taped her speech back together and saved it. Who knows, perhaps she’ll use it as fuel for her next ambition. Either way, it’s a momento. What’s cool is that later she came and told me that she’s glad that she wasn’t chosen for council because she and her friend Harper have decided to create their own group dedicated to improving the community. And just like that, she was off to her next chapter. That’s the beauty of kids, they can easily turn the page. Let’s hope we can do the same.
SDW3
everyday fatherhood 