She misses yet again.
My daughter Caitlin and I are playing ping-pong. She’s only eight years-old and still waiting on some of her hand-eye coordination (it may never arrive), so she misses the ball almost every time. Nevertheless, with a solemn look on her face, she persists, swinging with determination at every ball I send her way.
Then, several minutes into our play, she catches one solidly, firing it right back at me.
I’m shocked and unprepared for the event. I quickly try to recover but I’m too late—I swing and miss. Suddenly, the solemn look on her face is transformed into something that looks like a sunrise. And she says with delight, “Oh good, I’m not the only one messing up!”
I’m not the only one messing up!
It’s a delightful revelation in ping-pong, but it’s an even more delightful revelation in life, isn’t it? Because in the back-and-forth, ping-pong chaos of life, we are always swinging and missing. We do our best, but our life-eye coordination hasn’t quite arrived (it may never arrive). And I’m pretty sure there’s a name for this situation. It’s called being human.
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