Once upon a time I was a basketball player. Since I'm attempting to be completely honest here, it got to a point where I absolutely did not enjoy playing and began to hate it. My heart wasn't in it, but I thought I needed to continue with the sport to please other people. It was too much for me, so I finally quit, thinking this would make life ten times better. I struggled with questions such as: Am I a weak person for giving up? Am I not the athlete I thought I was? Are my parents not as proud of me? Looking back, I realize how silly these questions are and wish I hadn't wasted my time with them.
Six months ago I began to play tennis. It was amazing to me how fast I grew to love it, and as it got closer to summer, I decided that I really wanted to be a part of the girl's tennis team this coming year. Throughout June and July I nearly killed myself conditioning in the heat and spent countless hours playing. I knew that it was sure to be difficult, especially considering the number of talented freshman going out for the team, but I tried my best to remain optimistic.
My dad is a huge fan of cowboy movies, particularly those starring John Wayne. As tryouts rolled around, he sent me one of his favorite quotes: "Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway." Cheesy, right? But it gets the point across nonetheless. I'd be lying if I didn't tell you I was scared to death while driving to the tennis courts that beautiful morning; however, I knew I wanted it more than I've ever wanted anything. Because I tried my hardest over that three day period, I don't have any regrets over how I played, just regrets about how it turned out. The five available spots on the team went to a Finnish foreign exchange student and four of the freshmen girls, and once again, I'd be lying to say I wasn't disappointed.
This experience has taken quite a bit of faith in Heavenly Father's plan for me. Part of me asks, "Why couldn't He have let me have this one little thing?" When this crosses my mind, I have to tell myself to take a step back and look at the big picture. I glanced at a quote hanging on my wall after I returned home from the final day of tryouts, and to me, this gives another perfect definition of courage: "Courage does not always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, 'I will try again tomorrow.'" (Mary Anne Radmacher)
And so I will try again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that, until next year when I have the opportunity to try and fulfill my dream once again. For courage is often the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow."
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