On Facing the Power of Failure

As the year wears thin and nears its end, most folks turn and reflect on that which they have achieved in the past year.  They count the dollars they have made.  They mark the matches they have won.  They tout the triumphs they have attained. Most folks consider the power of their successes.      

I am not most folks.

With less than forty days until year’s end, I am not extolling my achievements.  Instead, I am praising the power of my failures.  I am rejoicing in my setbacks.  I am basking in the glory of each loss.  Losing, I have come to understand, is more important than winning. And failure, I have learned, is more powerful than success. 

In April, I ran my first race.  I did not break the tape.  No one presented me with a prize.  In all measurable accounts, I had failed.  Yet it remains one of the greatest successes I had seen all year.  

In August, I made my first climb to the top of the towers, a twenty-nine story building located downtown.  No crowds gather to cheer my arrival.  Indeed, what I had done was tiny compared to those who regularly compete in the sport of tower climbing.  Yet it remains an example of the great heights I have reached.

In September, I ran a 15K race.  I tortured and tormented my body for over nine miles.  I finished in four hundredth and nineteenth place.  I was not inducted into the winners circle.  Indeed, my name was barely noted as I crossed the finish line.  Yet it remains one of the biggest successes in my life.

As I look back over my year, I am thankful.  Not for the ribbons I received.  Not for bronze awards.  Not for accolades or accomplishments.

Rather, I am more thankful for the failures I have had the privilege to live.