Ultimate Failure Fix

It was pouring rain in the Central American jungle. It had been doing so for days. We macheted through broad sharp leaves and trudged through thick mud to get to our destination. I was carrying medical equipment that our doctor would administer to a sick man at his home.

The household was grateful to see our group arrive. With a deeply sincere set of smiles, they escorted us into their home.

The hut was nice by the local standard. Brick augmented the wooden support beams and rails that held up the metal roof. A woman was frying food on an open flame, using banana leaves as we would use pans. The rain drops would sputter and sizzle in the fire, adding to the steam and smoke that rose in the air.

Despite what I had thought before, even though the rain itself was warm, it chilled us to be in it for so long. I hadn’t realized how cold I had gotten until I felt the warmth of the fire that radiated from the make-shift stove. But it didn’t seem to radiate far enough to warm a man resting on a bed on the opposite side of the cabin, a few feet away.

The doctor stepped in and approached the man. I dutifully stepped beside him with his equipment along with another assistant. After an examination, the doctor smiled, took some amoxicillin from his bag and handed it to the man, giving instructions to our translator who in turn repeated them in Spanish for the patient and his family to hear.


There are times in my life when I feel the weight of failure so deep that it almost defines me: That time I was stood up for a date, the idea that my manager shot down yelling at me in front of others, the countless times I heard “what’s wrong with you?” by adults growing up, dropping the catch during a baseball game and hearing other team members shout my name like it was a filthy word, the stack of rejection letters from job interviews.

A decade ago, a study with monkeys revealed that it is through repeated success that we become more successful. Failures don’t tend to teach much, and a hostile, deprived, negative environment just makes us weaker and more prone to failure.

Success breeds success, so find ways to be successful – even in small things. What better way than to help a neighbor or volunteer for the community? Click To Tweet

I noticed this years ago while watching tennis. People who miss the ball, usually miss in pairs, and when stronger shots would better serve their score, they hold back after a point loss. A failure to point causes a psychological double-play that alters behavior to hedge the risk. In short, failure increases fear and tears up our courage.

But it takes more than courage to overcome that failure and become fully re-engaged in the next move. Like the monkey study mentioned earlier, it takes the positive outcome of a positive action to flip past the failure cycle.

We can apply this to our lives. Our activities can shape our success. This is why Navy Seals say that making the bed in the morning has a dramatic effect on achievement. It’s also why volunteer work, when you feel least like volunteering (e.g. in the midst of depression) can actually turn your life around and even save it from disaster.

When you have failed, or especially if you consider yourself a failure (e.g. Charlie Brown), start something positive and success will start to weave its way into your life. When I reflect on that mission trip and others like it, I consider myself blessed and my perspective in life becomes more positive. In turn, I see more of the good around me and am more prone to take risks. Volunteer for success and you’ll find it already there, waiting.

This article is from the “Raw Talk on Failure” series.

Photo by Mitchell Griest on Unsplash

Giving A Piece Of Myself

30 months ago I started growing out my hair. The first few months it was because a few of the guys in the office had the wild notion of growing out their hair to thwart the middle age that had come upon them. But at that point I realized this could become much more.

For some reason I thought hair could grow an inch a month, and having a good employment from a company that seeks out ways to help the community, there was support from them as well as my family to continue after this goal.

The truth is that my hair grew out only a third to a quarter of an inch a month, making it a 30 month run before I could cut my hair without shaving myself bald.

I chose Wigs for Kids for several reasons. First and foremost, they ask no money from those who receive the wigs. Secondly, they focus their attention on children. I remember being constantly picked on and abused by my peers throughout the schooling years so this was a personal goal to help at least one child not suffer the humiliation I went through. Finally, because they have such strict requirements, very few of the donations are thrown away or sold. People who participate in Wigs for Kids don’t do it on a whim and are careful to make sure the hair gets to them in a qualified manner.

As an adult with a full head of hair I was criticized by those around me. Although it’s certain the judgmental behavior came from people of all ages, it was children who out of natural lack of verbal constraint audibly expressed condemnation. I felt a need to excuse my choices and told people at random why I was growing out my hair; it was often because of my fear of attention rather than my desire for it that people were told my motives.

Children usually don’t get that chance with their peers from whom biting harsh words are thrown. When dignity and support is torn from a child it ripples into the rest of their lives. Likewise, when support is given in the face of indignant situations, it can make a child stronger – possibly even a Tour de force that positively impacts other lives.

As it turned out, last weekend I reached my goal! To make the finish line even more emotional, the barber who cut my hair has a niece with leukemia. Even in rough economic times we can help. If you’re not growing out your hair, raise awareness. Tweet it. Get people involved in hair clubs where, instead of trying to grow hair for themselves people are growing their hair for others.

Peace!

Dear Diary

I really like Rabi Daniel Lapin. Today’s email blast struck a chord on something I wanted to just mention an idea on.

I used to keep a diary. Trust me, it was a scary thing. I’m terribly embarrassed by it, now and have thought of creative ways to destroy the volumes of terrible emotional venting. I also wish that I had kept a journal or diary over the past ten years because so much growth has occurred during that time and some of the wisdom acquired has been lost. I have a terrible memory that serves me as well as an Applebees waiter on Sunday.

So today I’ve felt mostly down. When asked what’s wrong, the only response I could come up with that didn’t incriminate against myself was “I’m not living up to my potential.”

That statement in itself is true and generic enough to let people derive their own conclusions. Life, work, marriage, fatherhood, worship, leading, following, you name it.

Sometimes it feels good to be emotionally drained. It leaves more room for the happiness in the days that follow.