Heart of gold

A couple of weeks ago I was inspired by my son's new organization scheme for his gymnastics medals, which came into being after he earned his first ever silver and bronze medals.

The new system looks like this.

(For those of you who are having trouble making out the light pencil on white paper on white backboard on not-so-white wall, the categories are "4th place or lower", "Bronze", "Silver", and "Gold".)

What I love most about this system is its implicit optimism. The way it quietly screams, "I don't have a gold ... YET!!")

Hope is one thing. Expectation is another. I wondered which of these filled his heart. Especially when, at the very next meet, in the middle of what was shaping up to be a stellar, gold-medal floor routine, he had a major flub. A one-full-point-deduction flub. I considered the empty peg on the wall in his room. I wondered how his heart would fare. Where did his focus lie?

My child made me proud. This boy - ahem, this young man - did not give up nor did he fall apart. He recovered from his error and finished his routine. And after he left the floor, I was even more proud. There could have been tears, frustration, anger. He is eleven, after all. He easily could have focused on the negative, on what had been lost. Instead, and with some encouraging words from his coach, he embraced the positive.

And then on Monday he went back to the gym. And he worked. Hard.

This weekend he had another meet. His floor routine was stellar.

Do I have to tell you the boy was floating on air?