I must get used to this feeling of a torn heart. Because competition is so common to our children (for better or for worse), almost daily I witness circumstances that bring joy to one of my children and disappointment to another. And somehow I must rejoice with the one and comfort the other. And somehow I must teach all to be encouraging regardless of which side they end up on.
And I'm an adult, and this task is virtually impossible. To feel joy in others' successes when I am flirting with failure? Not easy. Hard. Reeeallly hard. I can easily slip into self-pity and jealousy. Can't we all? I know I'm not alone.
I don't throw tantrums or burst into tears, but I have definitely cried. And I've been a much meaner version of me because life is unfair. And I've definitely asked God when it's my turn to succeed.
We all like to win--to succeed--even those of us who "aren't competitive." Let's not pretend our children are then only ones. Disappointment just downright stinks. Feeling like you don't measure up stinks.
It's absolutely true that my own worth does not lie in my successes and failures but rather in who (and Whose) I am, and I try to teach that to myself and to my children daily. But in this moment of night and day emotion I will not be a teacher. For this moment I will let my mother's heart split and experience both the high and the low.
A torn heart is extremely uncomfortable, and I don't imagine it getting any easier; but these children are worth it. They are so worth it.