To quote one of the world’s most distinguished philosophers, Christopher Robin, “Always remember you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”
Sure, that was easy for him to say. He was comforting a stuffed bear.
What about us humans who are made of delicate bones and hearts that break?
What makes us think we’re brave, strong, and smart? That our contributions to the world are valuable? That our place on the team matter?
Many decades later, the one about the team sticks out to me.
I’m short and not very athletic. When it came to picking teams in grammar school, I was always the last one selected.
The teacher would anoint the captains. It was always Nancy and Michelle. Like clockwork. They were great athletes and natural leaders. Oh, and of course, they sported impeccable ponytails.
They would face us, the pack of potential players, and start picking. As each person was selected, the “chosen one” would squeal with joy and then proudly sprint to their team.
The rest of us stood there fidgeting and pathetic, trying to look as fast, strong, tall, and agile as our 10-year-old bodies would allow.
Nancy and Michelle would make another set of picks.
Now there were more players on the two teams than in our scraggly group of seeds and stems.
After a couple more selection rounds, there were only two of us left. Yours truly and Leslie. They always chose Leslie before me.
I’ll spare you the details about my performance on the soccer field. But suffice it to say, good old Nancy and Michelle were right to pick me last, I wasn’t very good.
On game days, I pretended I was sick. You know the one where you put the thermometer in the hot water while pinching your cheeks until they turned red. My mother never fell for it. She was way too smart for that.
Every game, I swallowed my pride.
I put on my uniform. Double-knotted my shoes and then sat on the bench 90% of the time.
When they finally put me on the field, I was invisible.
No one kicked the ball to me. They kicked it to anyone BUT me.
But oddly, during game time, my indignity melted away.
I was part of something bigger. I was part of a team. I shared the experience of running up and down the field with my teammates. Exhilarated when we scored a goal. Deflated when we missed one.
Before every game, I dreaded getting on that field. After every game, I was glad that I did.
All of us face times, people, and circumstances that make us uneasy. When we step outside of our comfort zone. We worry that we may get bruised physically, mentally, or emotionally so we choose to retreat to our corner to avoid the pain.
It is those times when we need to look for a smile of encouragement from the stands or a high five from a teammate on the field to realize that we aren’t alone. That we are valuable and we do matter.
If I’ve learned anything, it’s that sucking it up and stepping into the arena beats the heck out of living life on the sidelines.
Lovely!