My All Is All I Have To Offer

I've never been the best.

Not academically, nor in sports. I've never been the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest. Most likely to succeed was not next to my name in the yearbook. Never the best looking, the most popular, the star. I grew up when only the winners got a trophy, so I had few. Third place. Maybe second. Not the champion. Not the top.

I'm not disappointed. I don't despair over missed opportunities, or the inequity of life. I rarely long for past glories nearly achieved, or those which remained far from my grasp. I only lament those times when I did not do my best, and I can honestly say, those are few.

I've never been the best, but I have my parents to thank for teaching me to always be the best I could be. I cannot point to a particular lesson or event, I cannot tell you how exactly they encouraged me, but they did. Whatever I did in my youth, they told me to do the best I could. When I did, they were pleased. When I didn't, I knew it. I wasn't commended for half-efforts or good-enough. I knew what was expected. I didn't have to win, but I did have to do my very best.

I learned to keep trying, work hard, and never give up.

My dad was a hard worker. When he did something, he was all in. He didn't push me to be something I couldn't be, or do something I couldn't do. He wasn't hard like that. What he did was show me, in everything he did, to put your whole self into it. When we cut firewood, we worked until it was dark or it was done. When something broke, he fixed it. When we needed money, he worked overtime. When we hunted, we hunted hard. When we fished, we fished all day.

My dad wasn't the best at most things either, but he could do anything, it seemed--a real jack-of-all-trades. We couldn't afford to hire most things done, and didn't need to. Dad did it, whatever it was. It didn't matter how many hours he worked; if the car needed fixed, he fixed it. If the baseball team needed a coach, he coached. When it needed done, he did it, and he did the best he could.

I learned from that. I learned that being tired didn't mean you had to quit. I learned that just because you weren't exactly sure what you were doing, you could learn along the way. I learned to work at life, and in life, and I learned that hard work paid off. The hard work of my parents took us on vacations, gave us a home and Christmas presents, and taught all three of us kids the value of honest effort.

I never got in trouble for losing.

I wasn't handled with kid gloves and told that winning didn't matter, but I wasn't ridiculed or belittled for not being the best. I was encouraged to try, to work, to put everything I had into everything I did. If that was enough to come out on top, awesome! There were hugs and congratulations, pizza and slaps on the back. Winning, or even placing, was a good thing.

I also learned that losing was part of life. I learned to lose with humility and grace. I learned that losing a game, a race, a contest wasn't the end of the world. Losing wasn't good, but it wasn't bad, either. What mattered was the effort, the heart, the dedication. Do your best, and try to be better every time. That's what I remember being told. Don't settle for anything less than all you can do.

I now realize that my all is all I have.

That's what my parents taught me. In school, in sports, in college, and even when I got married and had kids, they reminded me of this. "You won't be perfect. You won't do it right all the time. Sometimes you'll win, but often you'll lose. Do your best, every time. That's all you can do."

Those were not, and are not, discouraging words. They were never meant to be, and I never took them that way. I took, and take, great comfort and encouragement in those simple instructions. I understand what they were telling me to do was to be the best I could be, and never settle for less. I understand that trying to be a little better every time means my best tomorrow will be better than my best today. I know that winning isn't everything, but you should never play to lose.

All I have--all we have--is our all. In whatever we do, all we can expect of ourselves is our very best effort, and that's exactly what we should expect. I don't agree with the new world view that winning isn't important, or that everyone is a winner. That's not how I see life. But I don't think coming in second, or third, or fiftieth makes you a loser, either. When you've done your best, you've won the battle for today. Anything else is a loss.

My all is all I have to offer, and my all is exactly what I'm expected to give. It's what I learned from Mom and Dad, and it just so happens, that's what God wants from me also.

Isn't it funny how, the older you get, the smarter your parents seem to be? I think that's because they gave us all their all as well.