Probably about half of my memories from elementary school come from third grade. Yes, that is most likely an exaggeration (I actually loved almost every second of elementary school,) but my third grade teacher was, and still is, one special lady. She was real with us about her life in the most appropriate ways, and it was with her guidance that I began to unlock even further my deep love for writing.

I hold close to me the memories of reading time spent in my third grade classroom, and I will never forget for the days I was privileged to spend time devouring a book in the covered wagon at the back of our room (yes, we had a legit covered wagon. It fit about two third graders and it was incredible.) But, what is imprinted on my brain even more is the sign that hung on the wall near that covered wagon with the catchy phrase,

"It's okay to try and fail and try and fail again, but it's not okay to try and fail and FAIL to try again."

I remember my teacher explaining these wise words to us, emblazoning the lesson on my heart.

Every second of every day, we have the opportunity to try things, to make choices. Sometimes we choose what is the most natural, simple response, what will make our lives (at least temporarily) easier. And there is nothing bad about that.

But sometimes we step out of our comfortable boxes and try something different, something maybe we have observed or ruminated over and decided we are willing to try. Once in a blue moon, we are able to nail it at the first try, but more often than not, we fall on our faces, sometimes literally.

When I was learning how to ride a bike my parents would take my brother and me to parking lots with clear spaces to practice our developing skills. On one specific occasion, my brother and I decided it would be a fantastic idea to race our bikes. One thing led to another, and the next thing I knew I had fallen off of my bike onto the extremely hard cement parking lot of our church. I cried and cried and cried, my mom took us inside to find some people we knew and clean off my wounds, and I just sort of sat there.

Honestly, I don't remember what came next. It is pretty likely that we called it quits for the day and made our way back home, but I do know for a fact that I did ride my bike again, my dad's friend reminding me to "get back up on the horse."

I tried to race my older, more-advanced-bike-riding brother.

And I failed, flat on my face, there was literally blood involved.

But then I "got back up on my horse" and rode my bike again. It took me a long time to trust anybody to ride near me, but eventually I rode to school with friends, side by side.

If you "fail to try again" then you're quite possibly opening up yourself to lose. We always want to be the best right away, we are taught that there is no room for falling on our faces, no room for admitted failures. We lack patience, and we give up, losing to whatever is being dangled down in front of us.

But it doesn't have to be this way.

We can fall on our faces, get frustrated, kick some dirt, and then get back up, take a deep breath, and try again. There is no limit to the amount of tries we have. The only time we fail is when we stop trying.

Sometimes we have to take a break for a few days, weeks, maybe even years, but we don't have to give up. We can win. We will win.

A friend once told me, "falling is not failing."

Yes.

Get back up. You can do it.

Falling is not failing.