To Succeed

My eyes burned even as my fingers shook in the frigid lake water. The low purr of the motorboat engine thrummed in my ears as I gripped the waterski handle with stiff, numbed hands. I tried to push away every thought that was not of success, like maybe I could erase my failure with one final attempt. “Ready?” My dad called. Taking a deep breath, I pushed away the feeling of defeat that still threatened to close off my throat. “Ready!” I called back. The idling purr became a roar, and with a rising of the prow and a froth of white waves the motorboat throttled into action.  My arms yanked forward, back straining, heels pressed down as water sprayed from the sides of the emerging skis. Please be this time, I thought, come on, come on! Rope and water and air threw themselves against my body for one second of fighting madness, then the skis flew from under me and I slammed face first into the churning lake once more. I had failed, or so I thought.

We so often see success as the only part of the learning process that holds real worth, but my experience waterskiing taught me that the true worth is in each step of the way, for that is where we actually learn, grow, and are shaped. I don’t deny that success is nice; it can be tied up in a bow or put on the wall, but it falls short when we make it the meaning in our lives. The way we view success affects us. I had fixed my eyes on success, and it made me blind to every other thing I was gaining. It made my soul ache, and sent hot tears to mingle with the cold water on my face as I surfaced, coughing and shaking. It caused me to see myself as a failure, for what other option was there?

I wish I had known that there is so much more to life than success. You cannot have a journey without each step, so you cannot have success without each part of the learning process; it is the culmination of these steps that we call success. I had spent the morning wrestling with skis in the water. The sky was gray and overcast, but I sucked in my breath and slipped into the frigid lake anyway. It was painstaking for 12-year-old me to even get the skis upright, much less achieve the balance and tension to get up out of the water. I slammed into the waves, not just a couple times, but again and again. I was soon exhausted, as cold as I have ever been, and frustrated at my failure. Even so, I kept trying. I wish I could have seen how each new attempt was another step in my journey. One step is a little thing, but without each and every one, we would not get where we are trying to go. In the minute ways that I could not read, my body was learning how to hold the skis, how to push just enough, but not too far. It was not failure, it was growth.

We have put success on a pedestal and come to ignore the journey of getting there, yet the journey is the more important part because it is what shapes us, and makes us into the kind of person we are. I had failed to waterski that day. Strong arms helped to pull me up onto the boarding platform, pulling the cumbersome skis from my feet. My life jacket was left sopping on the floor as I was wrapped in a dry towel. I watched, heartsick and with red eyes, as we drove to shore. Now, looking back, I can see the things that I was just beginning to wonder about. Regardless of whether or not I actually skied, that time spent learning was not wasted. Not only was I building muscle, but I was building strength of character. I was learning what it was to work hard. I was trying something new and giving it my best effort. I fell down so many times, but each time I got back up I was practicing the patience and endurance that would get me through my life. 

Now you want to know how the story ends. You want to know whether I ever water skied. Let me tell you right here; it does not matter. This story is not about if I “succeeded” or not. I am showing you the importance of faithfulness in our daily lives. I believe the bravest thing we can do is try our best even when we see no hope of success. Think of an A+ student, the one for whom school seems easy. Now think of a B or C student who spends hours each evening, working their very hardest without the promise of a top score. I can tell you who our world will celebrate, but let me ask you this: Who do you think will come out stronger- braver, more patient- on the other side?