PERSEVERENCE
Nurturing confidence and conviction
by Jan Whitson

“Mommy, I need to learn to jump rope.” Susan was seven, and jumping rope was the big game at recess. So we bought her a rope, and she began to practice.

“One, two…Okay, try again.” I patiently counted for her all Sunday afternoon, over and over and over. It often takes more than one day to learn to jump rope.

The next day after school, she took her rope to the front yard. I watched from the window. One, two…try again, over and over and over.

Every day that week, she practiced.

One, two…try again. I quit watching from the window, and wished I’d had better coordination genes to pass along to her. One, two…try again. For weeks it continued. I was amazed at her perseverance. But she must be getting discouraged from the lack of progress. I tried to distract her with other games, baking cookies, reading books. Nope. Every day… One, two…try again.

Then, one day she came running into the house. “Mommy, come out and watch me!” I hurried outdoors. Beaming, she began to jump. One, two, three…. One, two, three… “See, I can do three now!”

I hid my dismay behind a big smile. “That’s wonderful, honey!”

My disappointment was unmerited, though. Within the week, she was jumping along with the best of her friends.

But I knew if it had been me, I’d have quit.

When our daughter Joanna was born with a severe developmental disorder, the doctors told us she would never crawl. Searching for help for her, we found an intensive physical therapy program; one her doctor carefully told us was not something he could recommend, though he didn’t believe it would harm her. His concern, he said, was for us—for the unrealistic expectations the program would raise, and for the guilt we would feel when she didn’t improve. We began the program anyway, when Joanna was two months old.

She had ten hours of therapy a day, six days a week, at home. Scores of volunteers helped, two for each therapy session. Weeks went by, and then months.

The multitude of activities we performed included a variety of sensory stimulation and other activities. Joanna tasted things, was hung upside down, and used her eyes to follow a wooden fork bristling with an entire string of Christmas mini-lights twisted around the prongs. Everyone’s least favorite was when Joanna had to practice crawling. I would put my daughter face down on an eight foot long, fabric-covered board, angled downward. Bringing one of her knees up and out, I would put my hand behind her foot, giving her something to push against. A volunteer would bobble a favorite toy or rattle in front of her, just out of reach. No response. In the beginning, she wouldn’t even lift her head. So I would pinch the top of her thigh, just where it met her little behind. She would cry out, and straighten her leg, moving a fraction of an inch forward. Quickly I would move the opposite knee up, and brace the foot. Pause and pinch. Lift the other knee. Brace, pause, pinch… Brace, pause, pinch… By now, Joanna would be crying hard. But there was still a lot of board to go. Brace, pause, pinch… Brace, pause, pinch… Brace, pause, pinch… Brace, pause, pinch… Reaching the bottom at last, she would get a hug and a bottle.

Joanna and I did this four times a day, every day but Sunday, for a year.

Then one morning… lift the knee, brace the foot, pause. And she pushed. The opposite knee jerked up and she pushed again. The volunteer kept bobbling the ring rattle. Joanna reached for it and pushed again. Inch by inch, she moved herself. Watching this, my four and a half year old son scrunched his forehead, alarmed. He didn’t understand why I was sobbing, with tears rolling down my face. Joanna reached the end of the board, to tumultuous applause from the volunteers. She was 14 months old.

Often it is possible to persevere on behalf of a much loved child, even for those of us who consistently fail to persevere on our own behalf. I don’t know why. But I do know where perseverance comes from. It comes from faith. My grandmother’s bible, the King James Version, says “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” The Free Merriam Webster Dictionary (online) defines faith as, “Firm belief in something for which there is no proof.” But, Young’s Literal Translation of the Bible puts it, I think, even more strongly: “And faith is of things hoped for a confidence, of matters not seen a conviction.”

Confidence and conviction. I like that. It takes confidence and conviction to persevere. Great. How do we find this confidence and conviction?

In matters of everyday life, I think we have to believe what we want is possible, and what we are doing is right. Confidence comes from the first. “Consult not your fears but your hopes and your dreams. Think not about your frustrations, but about your unfulfilled potential. Concern yourself not with what you tried and failed in, but with what it is still possible for you to do.” (Pope John XXIII) ” Conviction comes from the second. As Davy Crockett said, “Be always sure you are right, then go ahead.”

If you look, examples are all around. Many of the best are young children. They learn to walk. They learn to talk. They learn to throw and to catch. They try, they fail, and they try again. Failure doesn’t debilitate them, like it often does us. Why not? Confidence and conviction.

I believe confidence and conviction can be nurtured or destroyed by the voices we choose to hear. Think about the encouragement you give to a child learning to walk. One hundred percent positive, correct? Now think about what you say to yourself when you make an attempt and fail… If you are like me, it falls a little short by comparison, doesn’t it?

In all of life, from matters small to great, we must listen to the positive voices. Grow our confidence. Strengthen our conviction. Then we will persevere.

Need a positive voice to hear? Here are two of my favorites:

http://www.school-for-champions.com/speeches/churchill_never_give_in.htm
http://www.attorneymarketing.com/2008/11/04/never-never-never-never-give-up/