The old adage tells us we learn from our mistakes. We also learn from our failures. In our many decades of life there have been more than a few. One of my most dramatic, and most important, was in high school. I was set to progress to the University of California, however, algebra and geometry proved to be huge stumbling blocks.
If i didn’t get a passing grade I would not be admitted to the university. Pressure from my family was enormous, weighing heavy on my adolescent shoulders.
By Gerd Altman on Pixabay
A grade of D in the algebra course set the course for future failures. A private tutor was engaged. Once each week for the next school term I struggled to understand. I wept bitter, angry tears. I knew I was not stupid. I simply couldn’t understand the foundation of it all. Somehow though, with encouragement from the tutor, I managed to pass with a C grade.
Relief. No black mark on my record.
Then came geometry….even less understanding. I simply couldn’t see and comprehend the shapes, the formulae, the relationships. This led to another D grade. The same tutor sat with me. Then came six weeks in summer school, ruining a perfectly beautiful summer, usually spent on a Southern California beach. (We didn’t know much about skin cancer then.)
Another D grade appeared on my report card.
The next term came and I saw the same geometry teacher, much to my chagrin and dread. Week after week, for the whole of the next term, the same tutor appeared at my desk. I felt increasing humiliation. I wept more bitter, angry tears. But there was no turning away. I simply had to receive a passing grade. I wanted desperately to go to university.
By Gerd Altman on Pixabay
Again, somehow, I managed to pass with a C grade.
Again, no black mark on my record.
When the acceptance letter arrived from the university I wept again. This time, the tears were triumphant. I did it!!!! I persevered through shame, missing out on summer holiday, struggle with pencil and paper. (no laptops then.)
I learned i had the strength to continue, to reach for what I was called to do, to trust that it was possible. These days we call it resilience, a quality shown often in the life of elders.
“Come, come, whoever you are. Wanderer, worshiper, lover of leaving. It doesn’t matter. Ours is not a caravan of despair. Come, even if you have broken your vows a thousand times. Come, yet again, come, come.
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