It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Maybe it was all those Dog Whisperer episodes.  Maybe the hours of natural horsemanship moving horses with a carrot stick made me overconfident.

Either way–it was a bad idea.

A few months ago, my family adopted the sweetest border collie.  She is 62 pounds of pure love, affection, and high-speed momentum.  She came fully equipped with good housebreaking and sleeping habits which was a deal breaker for me.

Our family has fallen in love with her.

Like all dogs, she has a few “quirks” to work out.  I’ve tried the usual Cesar Millan techniques to no avail.  Inside, she is a gem.  Outside, she is like walking a Tasmanian devil.

The nagging thought keeps resurfacing that perhaps it is genetically stupid to try to walk a border collie.  I keep pushing it aside.

My husband finally bought a shock collar.

Before you start posting hateful comments about shock collars, understand this is a last resort. While we live in the woods, a border collie could cross the 12 acres to the main road in less than 10 minutes and believe me, she runs more than 10 minutes when she takes off.

I want to give her the freedom to run because she was made to run, but I also want her to live.  Enough said.

So today we did a little pre-training before venturing outside on the leash.  She immediately sensed there was a new sheriff in town.  We passed the first few assignments with flying colors.  I got brave and took her to visit the rabbits.  She loves to terrorize them.

Again, instant results and she looked so sweet.

I took her down the road for a walk.  She seemed a bit more distracted.  No problem, we worked through it–um, pretty well.  Suddenly the garbage man appeared with his big truck.  In my confidence, I decided we could sit and watch him in action.

Did I mention this was a bad idea?

The words, “She is in training!” were barely out of my mouth.  She shot like a rocket with her 62 pound force at the garbage man barking like that wild Tasmanian devil.  The force knocked me off my feet and on my butt.  I only had time to cry:  “She doesn’t bite…” as I desperately tried to find that shock button.

Did I mention my neighbor picked this moment to drive by?

In humility, and with apologies, we sheepishly returned home. The garbage man was still intact; I was frustrated and sore as her pack leader; but the dog was invigorated.

Sometimes in life, adversity can knock us flat on our butts.  There are two times in life when people quit: after great failures and after great successes.¹  

Every leader who has ever done anything great has had to learn the art of picking themselves off the ground and starting over.  Failure can come because of impulsiveness, overconfidence, the wrong team member, or so many other reasons.

And it’s so easy in ministry, in the home, in our jobs, to see failure as a personal indictment that intimidates us from taking a risk again.

To ever accomplish anything great, we must get rid of the idea that we have to be perfect. It is a recipe for misery.  Failure is not fatal.  Our goal should be for excellence, but never perfection.

Some of the greatest ideas in this world came from a host of failures.

Thomas Edison is the first name to pop into my mind.

It’s important to know what doesn’t work, as much as what does work.

As a mom, I’ve tried many discipline strategies that were a bust.  It didn’t make me a terrible mother; it made me a wiser mother.  As a pastor’s wife and ministry leader, I’ve tried a host of dumb ideas over the years and it’s made me a stronger leader.

I’m also thankful for the grace of our church people.

But one thing I have discovered over the years is that the only thing that is truly fatal is the refusal to try again.  To let life hit you square in the gut and knock you on your butt, and you just decide to stay there licking your wounds.

And that’s never a good idea.

Trust me, once you get over yourself after the first few times, it does get easier. Sometimes we just take ourselves too seriously.

I’m not sure what God has called you to do.  Usually, it involves a great deal of tenacity, courage, and quite a few failures.  He’s growing you, not killing you.  Well, maybe, He’s killing a few things in you–but He’s not killing you.

On the contrary, He is using your failures to make you wiser and stronger.

There was one thing I learned today from this failure:

Level 3 on the shock collar has no impact on a border collie. 

So on we go to the next level.

Whatever happens today, pick yourself up and try again.  Learn the joy of being able to laugh at yourself.

Chalk it up to experience, a lack of wisdom, or maybe, it was just a really bad idea; but whatever you do, find the courage and tenacity to pick yourself up and start again.

 

 

¹Waldie, Carey; Pursuing the Best: The How’s and Why’s of Living Life to the Fullest. (Daniel Communications, 2001, p.348)