darthbluetac

I sat in the room and I was nervous. I had the feeling all week this was coming and I had a small comfort and a peace, yet I was very scared inside my heart. I was ready for the letdown. It was far from my first. I talked small talk with someone 20 years my younger. I knew I was about to be asked to step down by this young man and this was hard.

I thought back to my first year as a deputy and calling my father over and over. I was getting my 5th write-up. He kept telling me to thank them for the discipline, not quit, and keep my head up. I was overcome with sorrow. I kept failing. Maybe I could make straight A’s, but I had no common sense. I would never catch on. I was beginning to give up. My dad said to keep going. I had already discharged my weapon with over 16 rounds on a bull within my first week on a Superbowl Sunday and managed to get in a full foot pursuit with an escapee after my face was beat in. My track record was awful and I was a walking paper trail.

I was 2 1/2 hours from my family and alone. I was scared but mostly scared to fail. On my days off, I would spend it, driving the roadways to help me memorize them, listening to the police radio, studying flashcards for signals and codes, shoot at the range as I was not a “gun” person, but I was beginning to think I may just not be cut out. I had a desire but maybe my critics were all right about me.

Twenty-five years later, here I sat. I had once watched my dad lose his dream. People crushed him. He chose his kids over their opinions. I respected that. He also taught me failure could be a gift because, in the end, it is your response that matters. I’m not going to leave a half marathon when it gets hard, or there is an obstacle. I trained too hard to check out. I will keep going. The same thing my dad was teaching me when I was a new deputy. I worked too hard to check out when I was disciplined. Right or wrong, keep going.

The lesson is the response. Failure was a gift, because twenty-five years later, when I again received hurt in my life, I again didn’t quit. I thanked them for their insight. I imagined how hard it was for them to sit across from me. I love them and it is okay. As the door closed behind me, God gave me peace that other doors would indeed open. I don’t need a big stage but sometimes the audience of one.

I thank God every day for His correction. He is the one I ultimately answer to, but I respectfully honor those to whom come to me as God calls us to be humble. It is our pride that causes us to not accept discipline, chastise, or direction. I always want accountability in my life and I am thankful that people care enough about me to love me. I won’t explain the why as I’m not called to. I did go home that day and I slept and I cried. Im human. However, I got back up and kept at the calling I have for my life. Failure is never final.