Mommy, I don't like Easter!" A laments as we drive up the hill by her school.
What do you mean you don't like Easter? It's the most pivotal day of our faith! The day we celebrate Christ's resurrection. Out loud, I decide to try and reason with a six-year-old who is clearly not in the mood for school and is trying to find any way to avoid getting out of the car. "Why don't you like Easter? It's a wonderful day and there's the Easter egg hunt this weekend."
"I don't like Easter egg hunts," she grumbles arms crossed, kicking the back of the passenger's seat. "There's too many people and not enough eggs and what if I don't win."
Ding, ding, ding. The heart of what's bothering my little competitor. Three days until the big hunt, and she is already apprehensive about not "winning."
I clearly have no idea where this comes from. Flashback: A Trivial Pursuit board game flies through the air as people I love dearly duck in horror. I stand, suddenly bulk to twice my size, turn green, and rip my clothes in anger. I shout at my partner, cowering in the corner, "How could you miss that question. It was so simple; how could you? Everyone knows who led the Spanish Armada. You cost us the game." Okay, so maybe it didn't happen exactly that way, but you get the point. I have a competitive streak. I DO NOT LIKE TO LOSE.
I am not proud of this flaw, er, quality. In fact, I often blush in shame when my family and friends recount stories of playing games with me. Most of the time their retelling includes something about wearing helmets and face masks. I am so competitive (again, I admit this with my head hanging low) that in my youth, I refused to participate in sports or competitions where I didn't think I would succeed. I found it more to my benefit to really hone the skills in areas where I knew I'd be victorious in the outcome, which explains why I was never considered an athlete. Clumsy and awkward are usually not precursors to stellar athletic skills. When I accidentally discovered, thanks to the President's Physical Fitness test, that I had the fastest mile for a girl in my class (on that particular day), I immediately threw myself into running, training for longer and longer distances until I finally completed a marathon, too slowly for my taste, but alas, I digress.
It's taken years for me to learn to participate in activities simply for fun, and I'm not even sure it is a skill that I've mastered...ok, I am certain it is a skill that I have not mastered. Even now, when I hear of peers who are my age and skill level who have completed 5 or 10Ks with a faster time than mine, I admit, I feel that green monster start rising up a bit. I can even turn boot camp or step classes at the gym into a competition, albeit I am the only one aware that there's any competing going on. Again, not proud of that either. Now, instead of trying to participate to win or "beat" someone else, though, I try to channel that energy into becoming the best runner or competitor, there's that word again, participant that I can be.
And I am not the only parent to pass down the competition genes. My husband, who is an accomplished runner and biker, and I can turn driving to church in separate cars into a competition to see who can find the fastest way there. (We, by the way, add oodles of fun to any game night, if anyone is thinking about getting one together soon.) If you think we're the kind of parents who make "mistakes" to allow our children an opportunity to win at Chutes and Ladders or Candyland, you are mistaken.
Heaven help my daughter. I grip the wheel a bit more tightly and ponder the best response to her outburst. A verse that has been pivotal to helping me tame the competition beast has been Colossians 3:22 "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men." I wholeheartedly believe that in every endeavor we should try our best, but for me, proving I'm trying my best has often been outshining the other participants.
As I've meditated on this, I've come to the conclusion that there is nothing wrong with healthy competition when it forces us to try our best and work our hardest. Where it goes awry is when you are standing at your child's little league game yelling at the coach because your child is still on the bench or lighting into a referee, while your 4-year-old chases butterflies in the outfield. (I have NEVER done either, by the way!) It goes awry, when like everything else in life, the focus is on me, self, I, and not on Christ and competing in a way that brings Him glory.
I realize that it has taken me over 30 years to come to that understanding and thirty seconds in carpool line will not be long enough to explain it to A, so I turn around, smile, and say, "Punky, I understand what you are saying, but the Easter egg hunt is a chance to have fun with your friends. It isn't about finding the most eggs or winning. It's sharing that fun with people you like." I say it and I finally believe it... A, clearly not convinced, crinkles her nose in dismay and grumbles as she gets out of the car. "I love you!" I shout as she walks away.
With three days until the hunt, I'm sure I'll have more opportunities to impart wisdom. As the passer-down of the competition DNA, I understand my little girl, and thanks to my journey, hopefully, I can help her learn the lesson a bit more quickly, so unlike her mom, people won't show up to her game nights looking ready for a game of tackle football instead of Monopoly.
