The 4-year-old boy on the balance beam was not happy. From my vantage point in the visitor's watching area, I could see him standing on a balance beam that was only about six inches above the floor mat. His head was in his hands and one thing was obvious – he wasn't budging.
Standing next to him was the instructor, gently patting him on the back and urging him to keep going.
He refused.
For the next few minutes, other youngsters pranced around him, tumbling and spinning, but this little boy stayed right where he was.
Strangely enough, he wasn't getting off the beam. He was simply rooted to the spot and refused to do anything but stand there and cry.
I thought a parent might go down and rescue him, but no adult came to his aid. Then I thought the instructor would pick him up and take him to his parents. But she didn't.
And then I realized an important fact.
If this little boy was allowed to quit right in the middle of attempting to walk across a balance beam six inches off the ground, the next time something difficult came his way, chances were good he'd duck away from that challenge as well.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a dark-haired boy of about 5, and he was having a grand time. He'd jump up after somersaults, a huge smile on his face, and run back to the end of the line, anxious to repeat the tumbling moves.
His excitement was contagious to the other children around him, and soon they were all doing their forward rolls with ease and coming up smiling.
Except the little boy on the balance beam who was still standing right where he was.
Occasionally he'd start to slide a foot to one side, but then he'd panic, stop, and pull his foot back again. The instructor would lean down and whisper something to him, he'd shake his head no, and then she'd straighten up and patiently go back to patting him on the back.
Unexpectedly, the little boy looked up at the instructor, no longer crying, and nodded to her – he was ready to try.
She leaned down and pointed at a spot a few inches from his left foot. He hesitated, but then, he slowly slid his foot to the spot. Immediately the instructor raised her hands in triumph. And then something amazing happened – he smiled.
She pointed a few inches past his foot again, and, this time, he moved both his left and his right foot. It took him a while, but he eventually made his way to the end of the balance beam. When he stepped off, he was holding his head up, the tears were gone and a satisfied look was on his face.
There will always be people in this world who move through life with gusto. And there are others who are often afraid to move from an uncomfortable spot.
They can either stay stuck in fear or they can wait until they feel comfortable enough to move forward.
And even though that youngster only moved a few feet, the obstacle he conquered was probably the toughest one in the room because the biggest fear he faced was inside his head.
That little boy taught me an invaluable lesson – even when you're scared, if you wait until you're ready, you can face your fears and slowly but surely move forward in life.
Inch by inch.
Step by step.
Until, no matter the distance, you complete your journey.
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.
2 comments:
Oh Denise, this one is just lovely! I love it. It reads almost like a short story or parable, but very real and meaningful. GREAT job!
Thank you, Jeff. I couldn't stop watching that little boy, and when he took that step, I had tears in my eyes. I wanted to jump up and shout for joy for him! A small step but such a huge one. Reminded me that, in life, it's the small steps that truly define who we are.
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