For a slice of my youth I was a passionate baton twirler who at age nine and ten marched in parades and twirled competitively it was through one such competition a valuable life lesson was imparted to me.
It was the marching event. The easiest of all of the events. The baton never leaves your right hand while moves in a “one two” up and down beat while left hand extends to your left side at a ninety-degree angle. You simply march in a square formation, keeping in step to the beat of band music while holding good posture and turning each corner with military precision. Add a smile and “poise” to the mix and that concludes a proper march. Once again, it’s the simplest of all events, but it requires timing and concentration.
And there I was in the midst of one such march when the unthinkable happened. Somewhere after the half-way point I dropped the baton – a full point deduction – and it is here that a curious thing happened. Without thought and without missing a beat I simply scooped up the baton, and kept marching, almost as if it never happened. I kept marching, I stayed in step, till I finished my course, saluted the judges, and left the floor.
I don’t recall having any major level of dismay after I saluted the judges. I had done my best and it was all I could do. What I do remember is having no expectations of placing first, second or third. So I simply enjoyed watching the other marchers, particularly my friend and neighbor who was new to competition, and I remember thinking she did well even though even though I could tell she was a nervous. And I was happy when her name was called for the third-place finish. But my surprise was complete and absolute when my name was called (last) for the first-place finish. It was in this moment I learned the reward of not giving up, not quitting. It would take adulthood however before I would more fully realize the value of “not giving up” when things got hard. I didn’t yet know in that moment that this lesson would serve me well for the rest of my life.
For instance, as a competitive gymnast in high school I fell off the beam – a full point deduction – but I still placed third because I didn’t give up (as some girls did, running off the arena in tears). It was also in high school I found myself performing a solo dance routine; a routine that started as a trio, then became a solo when the second dancer also quit. Because of this I’d added a series of rapid paced gymnast moves to fill in the time – the momentum of which caused my left heel to slip off the stage, rather than catch the stage. And what did I do? The only thing I knew to do – quickly hop back on the stage, and continue on. The tears came later, after the curtain closed.
And this is the lesson I learned at nine years of age – to never lose hope, to never lose heart, and to never give up. And it has served me well. Because I have continued to drop batons in my life and march with imperfect steps. But now that I know the Lord, I’ve learned to trust that as I continue to move forward to the best of my ability, He is with me, strengthening each step of the way. And that if I have a misstep, He is the One who lifts me up. Oh the joy of knowing He will be with me when I cross the finish line. Because a quitter I refuse to be.
Do not rejoice over me, my enemy; when I fall, I will arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord will be a light to me. Micah 7:8 NKJV
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Beautiful story 🙏🏻