Throughout the years my children (believe it, or not) have made mistakes. Some of them small, and some of them whoppers.
Through them all my husband has had to reassured me that this is not the end of the world.
My problem: I am a perfectionist. I was the ‘good girl,’ the honor student, the one who did not mess up. (At least not often, and not according to the standards of the world.)
My husband did. He knows what it is like to make a mistake and overcome. He knows that even the bigger things are not always as bad as they seem to be.
By making, correcting and overcoming mistakes one learns to put things into perspective. One learns that hard work, and true repentance solve most problems. One learns to have mercy, to worry less, and to not sweat the small stuff.
So… while one never wants to see a child flounder, fall and fail, there is a beauty in having done so. And a beauty in having the loving hand of a parent to guide them through. One who understands and appreciates the truth that the hard work they need to do to overcome is not something to be avoided, but a lesson to be embraced, and to be glad that they have the opportunity to learn to face adversity and win when they are seemingly so young.
And yes… I am preaching to myself today!