Hard Things

In fourth grade, I talked my parents into letting me take piano lessons. Two of my older cousins played beautifully, and I wanted to be like them. My parents rented a piano and found me a teacher. They even bought me a nifty book by Liberace that color-coded the keys (anyone else remember that one?). I was all set to achieve musical greatness.

Then I learned that to play well, I'd have to practice.

It was too much, too hard. Less than two years after I started lessons (and just a few months after my parents broke down and bought the piano), I quit. I didn't like the effort involved. It was easier to walk away than continue with something that didn't come easily.

It was the first of many times.

Now (much) older and (not so much) wiser, I realize that quitting is for...well, quitters. I don't want CJ to be a quitter. I want her to learn that life is full of hard things, that hard things aren't always bad things, and that the satisfaction of looking a hard thing in the eye and not flinching is priceless.

It's a tough battle, friends. But one that I can't quit. Because this time, quitting means I'd be teaching my girl to take the easy way out. She deserves more than that.

More to come...

For a righteous man falls seven times, and rises again - Proverbs 24:16 (NASB)