A Winning Failure

"We must be willing to let go of the life we planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.” – Joseph Campbell

Most people think there’s absolutely nothing good about being rejected, but the truth is things can work out for the best because of it.

It reminds me of when I was in high school. Everyone always says the third time’s a charm.

Seeing the crowd of teen girls huddled together in front of the P.E. office, some excitedly hugging one another, others walking solemnly away, I weave my way to the front, palms sweating and butterflies in my stomach. My heart is pounding all the way up to my throat.

“Please, Please,” I’m pleading under my breath. Two years ago getting in would just mean dancing and being a part of the fun “in” crowd, but now it would also prove my hard work had paid off.

My heartbeat starts racing faster, but my breath freezes.

Up and down, I’m carefully scanning names over and over.

Mine is missing.

Quickly wiping away tears that appear out of nowhere, I go look for my friends. My cheeks grow hotter from pangs of embarrassment because, yet again, I didn’t make the cut.

That day I found it hurts so much when effort isn’t rewarded, whether it’s making this team or later on in life when I didn't get a job offer after the interview. I learned that sometimes persistence doesn’t pay off, and that practice may not make perfect in the eyes of others.

It’s lousy every time.

But many years later, when I tell my spiritual friend about my “Tryout Saga,” she reasons you get rejected sometimes because it isn’t for your highest good and your life journey is meant to go a different way.

It sounds far-fetched, but as she speaks, flashes of memories come to mind of friends, clubs, people, and wonderful life events which happened when things didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped.

They only happened because I didn’t get my wish.

Those alternate experiences created the life I have now and I’m so grateful.

In the end, I learned a rejection can lead you on a different path that takes you to the best things that happen in your life.

And I call that a winning failure.

Is It Just Me?

Is it just me or do you sometimes get lost in your own thoughts even when there’s so much going on around you?

I had been thinking about something I had seen on the news earlier that day when, out of nowhere, the co-teacher suddenly turned to me.

Mrs. T announces to the pre-K, “Miss Nancy will sing some songs with you.”

I’m thinking to myself, “What just happened? Why did she call on me now?” while simultaneously racking my brain for a song they’d like to hear. My heart is beating fast and I see all 32 eyes on me. They are watching and waiting to see what I’d do.

Singing shakily, I start, “The wheels on the…”

Immediately all of the kids begin exuberantly singing using circular hand motions.

Jacob happily starts belting out the next verse, “The driver on the bus said move on back…” and we all move our arms overhead, front to back, in rhythm to the words as we sing. Without a pause, we sing the next song, first crawling our hands up and down like an imaginary spider, then swooshing our arms to the side to wash away the rain with gusto.

Singing along loudly, with emotion, we all are rock stars at a live concert. Minutes later, when the set ends, the kids are giggling and appearing so pleased with themselves. Even I am grinning ear to ear as I hold up the quiet sign to settle them down.

That day I was grateful for the push and reminder to really be present in life and in the moments that are happening right in front of you.

“Get out of your head and get into your heart. Think less, feel more.” — Rajneesh

Always Listen to Your Gut

I hate to admit it, but I didn’t always listen to my gut.

Cousin Lena, my superhero, is three years older.

Her hand-me-downs were my favorite, my hair was cut Dorthy-Hammil-style like hers, and we always played whatever she wanted. I imitated her mannerisms and followed her around like a puppy-dog when she’d come over for weekly family gatherings.

Summer of ‘76, about 5 ½ years old, Lena and her younger brother tag along with me for my summer camp at the rec center.

“They have tetherball and a machine that gives grape soda at lunch for FREE!” I happily tell them as we get out of Mom’s car and hustle into camp.

But later that morning, Lena decides that she has had enough.

“Let’s go!” Lena announces as she gets up from the table and starts walking toward the door.

“Where are you going?” I ask, confused.

“To your house,” she states matter-of-factly. “I’m done with my gimp bracelet and bored here. We're leaving.”

“How can we just go? Do you know the shortcut?” I whisper.

It’s not possible for anyone to leave camp early in the middle of the day by themselves.

There’s no way we should do that.

Is it possible she somehow has heard the back way from my big brothers?

“Stop worrying. I know it,” she replies confidently.

“Are you sure?” I ask again.

She nods and turns.

Our moms wouldn’t want us leaving, but I don’t want to be left behind.

I hesitate for a moment.

Then we all just walk out the propped open door to the parking lot. My heart is beating.

After a bit, Sam and I glance back, pausing. I expect a camp counselor to come rushing out the door after us.

There’s no sign of anyone, though. Just us.

Did we really just leave without getting caught?

I’m starting to feel a lump in my throat and tears welling up in my eyes.

Lena shouts at us to hurry up.

We turn around and follow her, single-file, down Falls Road.

We carefully balance on the white line between the cars whizzing past on one side and the steep tree-lined embankment on the other.

Eventually turning onto a different busy road, we now have a little more space on the side of the road to walk.

I’m shouting, “Hey, this doesn’t seem like a shortcut.”

No reply.

We continue in silence except for the sound of gravel crunching under our feet.

To my surprise, we didn’t die that afternoon.

Just some blistered ankles and thirsty kids.

It seems like hours before we make it to my house.

Mom’s face in seconds goes from happy to puzzled to confused to alarmed to angry as Lauren stammers to explain why we’re home so early.

I keep my gaze down and breathe a sigh of relief that Mom's emotion is not directed at me.

I’ve never heard her yell like that before.

They never accompany me to camp again.

And from that point on, I learned to not follow my hero, or anyone for that matter, when my gut tells me otherwise.

Trust your instincts.