1. A Dog and a Sandbank: If at First…

The house where we live in Florida is built on one-story concrete pilings due to its being beachfront. Our access to the beach entails going down off our deck, across a small backyard, over the dune walkover, and then down a slight sandy embankment to the beach. Usually. Since the last time we were here, fierce winds and churning surf have sculpted that gentle slope into a four-foot high sand cliff. Getting to the beach has been quite a scramble. The shape of the bank changes daily, adding to the excitement.

Our dog Callum provides me with a fine example of perseverance in the face of this sand cliff. She had certainly not seen anything like that before! When we went down to the beach the first time, she paused, looked over the cliff, and tried to make her way around it. She soon realized this wasn’t an option, since the cliff stretched for miles.

I will admit, my initial response was to walk the block or so down the road to a public beach access, thinking that repair crews might have restored access at public sites first. Not at that beach anyway. It was in the same condition.

Determination won out, and we returned to our own beach access. Still excited even in the face of the trouble we were having, Callum cocked her head, looked over the brink, and launched herself into the air, landing at the base of the cliff in a flurry of sand.

Shaking herself off, she was ready to go. Not to be outdone, I braced myself and inched my way down the sandy embankment. Not launched maybe, but inched!

To return to the house, we had to go up the cliff, which proved to be a greater challenge. It took the dog several tries, because with the sand shifting under her enthusiastic attempts at an upward scramble, her progress was as often backward as upward. Finally, though, with sand flying in all directions, she reached the top. She looked back at me as if to say, “Come on, you can do this too!” And I did. Most times we have come back from a walk on the beach, it’s taken me several attempts to get up the shifting sand. But so far, I always have! I hope they don’t get around to restoring the beach access too soon; I’m enjoying the challenge of going over it myself, as well as watching my husband and Callum deal with it.

 

2. How to Teach a Child Not to Persevere: Trying Isn’t Enough

As a child, I was in effect taught not to persevere, because I was taught not to try in the first place. The way in which I learned not to persevere sticks in my mind to this day. Unfortunately, at least in some ways, that lesson has stayed with me. This scene played out often throughout my early years. I would have tried my darndest to comply with some maternal expectation or another and failed to do so. I would then have been criticized and perhaps disciplined for having been unable to do so.

Me: “But I tried.”

My Mother: “Trying doesn’t count! You have to do it!”

I recently saw a video of a school gymnastics event in Japan. It provides a clear contrast to what I learned as a child. A student who looked to be somewhere between 9 and 12 was trying to jump a rather high barrier. He tried four times. I couldn’t tell if by the fourth time he was wiping sweat from his forehead or tears from his eyes. He didn’t clear the barrier the fourth time, and the coach sent him gently back to his sat with a pat on the back. What caught my attention was that the other students immediately clapped, then jumped up from their seats and surrounded him in a huge group hug!

 

3. The Grace of Our Experience: Only by persevering can we gain the benefits

For She Who is Being Tried
MJ Abell, after Ecclesiasticus (Sirach) 34: 9-12

What does she know who has not been tried?
The woman who has traveled lonely paths
knows how to find her way.
She who has weathered losses
gains compassion.

Tested, she multiplies her resourcefulness.

She who has not been tried,
what does she know?
She who has been surprised
abounds with vigilance.
Betrayed, she recognizes what is true.
Scarred, she finds her resilience.
Her illusions gone, she deepens.

O woman, you follow a spiral,
rounding and revisiting.
The furrow you plow
is your own life. Reach deep within
the soil you’ve loosened–
draw forth its richness.
Be strengthened by the grace
of your experience.

May you persevere as a part of this supportive community and come know the grace of your own experience.

~Rev. Julia