Losing with Grace

My son pouted in his booster, reluctantly putting his seatbelt on as we rolled out of the dusty parking lot from the soccer field.

“Buddy,” I repeated, “you played a great game. You made a few incredible diving saves! What’s to be upset about?”

“Mama, we lost four to one!” He scowled a moment before shoving his face in his shirt so his sister wouldn’t see him cry. (She wouldn’t anyway; she had her nose in a book.)

“We’ve been over this,” I sighed. “I don’t care what the score is, just that you do your best and learn and get exercise. Besides, next year is travel soccer and you’ll all be on the same team and those kids.” I pondered if it was worth the lecture about doing your best or that the amazing players on the other team would be on his team next year and he should celebrate that. Exhausted from those points, I started again.

“How does pouting help you?”

“No, seriously,” I insisted, “tell me what good all that anger does you. Does it make you feel better or worse? Does it change the outcome? If not getting your way leads to temper tantrums still, then you’ve got a long life ahead of you. You need to learn to move on.” He grunted. “Besides, I’m pretty sure it was three to two.”

“No it wasn’t!” came the immediate answer. (Parenting fail, whoops! At least I know he heard me.)

I let him cool down for a bit, then we changed the subject. By the time we got home, he was calm, even pleasant, so I had to close the topic off on a better mood.

“Do you still like soccer?”

“Yes,” he mumbled.

“Do you expect to win every game you play?”

“No,” his head hung as he sighed.

“I don’t expect you to either, and that’s okay.”

I didn’t offer any more positives in this moment; I just let him more calmly mourn the loss and let the mood fizzle. Long before he turned eight, my son had a hard time with losing or even not getting exactly what he wanted. It certainly wasn’t because I spoiled him, and not because he never got his way, but it’s his personality to expect better of himself (and others) and no participation trophy is going to help him cope with that. While this might sound harsh to some, I know my son and his many extreme moods. I know (mostly) when I can ‘let him learn’ and when I need to, say, give him a new popsicle because he dropped his.

I’ve lost in life plenty of times, both literally and figuratively, my fault and that of others. We’ve all experiences losses and, quite frankly, it stinks. As much as I want to pick my kiddo up and hold him until he feels better, I want him to someday pick himself up and move on. I know he’s still a kid but this lesson isn’t learned overnight. My husband has even told him, usually after working 3rd shift, “Get used to disappointment.” Now our son just groans and finds something else to do when he’s told no in this fashion. (I should add that we usually give a good reason why we’re saying no, and expect the same of him when he wants to tell us ‘no.’)

So why do I want to teach my kids about disappointment and hardship and not coddle them while they’re so young? I know many people who would agree with this tactic and some who wouldn’t.

Life is cruel, but not entirely. Truly, I think life is beautiful, but how can we see that beauty if we’re so easily distracted by a little (or a lot) of ugliness? Being able to see past the ugly (and there’s a lot in this world!) is a skill best learned young. My daughter has a knack for seeing beauty in things I hardly notice, but my son is more concrete. He wants his ice cream now. He wants to win every game. He wants all the time in the world on his tablet (not 1-2 hours a day, 3 days a week.) I’m a ‘mean’ mom and I’m okay with that.

We have a book of heroes that they’ve enjoyed which features the saints. My son chose to be St. Patrick for the 2nd grade ‘Wax’ Museum presentation. (Try searching St. Patrick costume and finding anything related to saint himself, seriously.) I think it’s great to tell them the real life stories of Catholics who led humble lives and saw the beauty in creation and loved God and served His people. There’s no big heroic deed in most stories (well, except St. George maybe), and most of the them weren’t terribly famous until after they died. They knew the story of St. Nicholas by the time they sat on Santa’s lap. They love the stories of St. Francis. Most beautifully, we pray to our quiet, sweet Holy Mother every night at bedtime prayers. When nightmares plagued my son, he took up the rosary.

It’s not just the saints that inspire humility. They’re favorite books focus on underdog heroes. I read the Narnia series to them when they were four and five. My daughter is begging to read LOTR but I don’t think she’s quite ready for the length! We also own most Miyazaki movies which are filled with humble messages of kindness and gentleness.

There’s too much competition in this world, too much pressure on everyone, kids and adults. I asked my high school class one day, “Name a place or a time in your week that you’re not stressed.” They were silent. I was honestly asking and thought someone would say something about family or sitting in their room, but nothing came. When I thought they were just being shy, I asked if everything in their lives felt stressful and they said yes, each one of them speaking up to agree. I was stunned; I knew it was bad but not that bad. I took the time to lead into God’s love being perfect and never failing and they could at the very least rest assured that nothing they ever did could stop His love for them.

I don’t care what the score is. I don’t care if my kids win or lose in sports, school, friendships, or even jobs. I care that they know their real value and can pick up and move on, or try again if the case may be. I care that they don’t place their self-worth on the outcome of a game or test or on someone else’s choices. I care that they know they are loved -unconditionally- and that they learn to spread that love to others. I pray they learn an unselfish love in a world of ‘me’ and they learn all the coping skills they need in a world tirelessly tiring us out. I pray they always pray, because it’s grounding if nothing else and empowering for their spirits. I care that they lose with grace, and that they win just as humbly.

They only thing we as humans have ever needed to win we lost, but then it was given freely by a Creator so loving that our sin couldn’t possibly stop it. Our salvation doesn’t keep score in soccer games and it doesn’t care who are friends are or anything else. Our Lord loves us where we are and this - This - is why I don’t sugar coat anything for my children. His Love is truth and this world is crazy ugly. I can only support them for so long, and so I hope to teach them to lean on Him who will support them forever.