"Forget the Mistake, Remember the Lesson" - Unknown
How many times have you made a mistake?
If you’re anything like me, your answer would be along the lines of:
“Honey, I’ve made WAY too many to count.”
I admit it. In my two-plus decades of life, I have made a few too many mistakes
(If you don’t believe me, ask my father!)
With a lifetime of mistakes under my belt, I am thankful that I took them in stride and did my best to learn along the way.
Sometimes, mistakes can be awful lessons to learn, and the older we get the less we want to endure the embarrassment of correcting ourselves, whether it be with peers, colleagues or family.
But here’s the real question - How many times have you learned from OTHER’S mistakes?
It took me a long time to grasp this concept.
“Other people’s mistakes? I thought I could only learn from my own?”
I was in a situation today that made me think about this, as I noticed an adult making a mistake which I’d learned from as a child in grade school, the hard way.
On that day, I said something about someone that I would have never wanted them to know, and before I knew it, word got around and I was cornered by the reality of what I had done. Ever since that day, I try to be very careful about every word that crosses my lips.
You never know who is around that could relay the message to those that you’re speaking of.
What blew my mind is that a 60-year-old lady was spewing what my dad would call “word vomit” to a crowd of people in a small town about another lady I’m sure everyone in the crowd knew personally!
Like me, and though I wouldn't wish it on anyone, I’m sure she’ll end up learning the hard way as well.
Situations like these make me wonder if we were brought up from a young age to be so vigilant that instead of making those mistakes ourselves, we could learn from those around us who actually made them first. (Ex. family, friends, tv, books, etc.)
I’m sure many people have had this idea before me, including my parents.
I can just think back to all of the times they said, “Don’t do that, Avery!” as my smart-alec self continued to do what they advised me not to do, rolling my eyes and doubting their words of caution.
They, as good parents do, sat back and watched me fall on my ass more times than I can count.
Although frustrated I didn’t listen to them, they were always there to pick me back up.
If only our young minds could handle the knowledge that was being thrown our way for the longest time from all of those around us who know from experience how badly it hurts to “fall on your face.” They’re only looking out for our well being attempting to keep us from having to endure the same pain ourselves.