Friendly Mistakes

 Journal #2

Perfectionism is a detriment rather than a virtue. I suppose that is why I’m always a touch afraid of meeting groups of people- I can’t control what all of them think. Last Friday, I found out firsthand that a mistake can sometimes be the best thing that can happen.

     A group of students had decided to take a hike. After another week of soporific lectures, agonizing homework, and shocking pop quizzes, the 45 minute car ride to Caesar's Head State Park felt like a crawl through the Himalayas. As people clambered out of the car and the tattered bed of a pickup truck, I began to sense myself developing a sly sense of apprehension. I didn’t know most of these people. There were only six of us going on the “less strenuous” trail, and the only one I had met before was the only other guy in the group. The rest were girls. For someone who struggles with impressions, being with a group of girls complicated the plan to have a calm, relaxing evening.

      Along the trail, we chatted, we played, we rested, and we encouraged each other, but-although I was enjoying their company- I still had this silent, nagging fear of their impressions of me. Based on prior experiences, I knew that until I overcame that social hesitation I would not be able to relax and truly let myself have a good time. I soon found out, though, that one small moment of mistake can lead to one huge moment of release.

     We stopped at a small waterfall, and it was just big enough to play in but small enough to be safe. It was a toddler waterfall. The other guy (Daniel) and I decided to whet our appetite for adventure by literally hopping right in. We set our feet free from their tennis-shoe shackles and splashed like little kids in the stream. Of course, we had to burn off our adrenaline, so we proceeded to put our imaginations into high gear. We took up sticks as our armament and commenced in an epic duel, and the damsels on the bank cheered wildly for their favorite knight. Alas, I was defeated, and as Daniel raised his stick-sword in victory, he made a foolish decision that brought friendships into existence. He proudly cast his stick into the stream, and water as frigid as the Bering Sea splashed up, up, and straight onto the nearest girl in the group. We stared. She stared. Then she glared. I had no idea what to do. We were out together in the wilds of the Blue Ridge, and we had a ticked off female to deal with for the next couple of hours. How, oh how, was this going to turn out alright? It seemed my fear would be confirmed: that my reputation, along with the girl’s shoes, would have to be hung out to dry. After an intense 10 seconds, however, her demeanor instantly changed. She quickly snatched off her shoes, leaped into the stream, and playfully tried to chunk us into the water along with Daniel’s stick. We all climbed and splashed, and from that one moment of stupidity all pretenses were gone. The ice had been broken. Friendship had been born.   

    Mistakes do not necessarily lead to disaster. Whether a frigid splash leads to friendship or a botched essay leads to better writing, an honest mistake can and often will enlighten me in brand new ways. I do not have to be a perfect person to make a friend. I do not have to be a perfect writer to become a successful student. I do not have to be a perfect Christian to make a difference in someone’s life. I want to become a better friend, writer, and Christian, but I cannot be paralyzed in fear of petty mistakes. If I am afraid to make mistakes, I will be afraid to try. If I’m afraid to try, I will never accomplish anything. Friday reminded me that perfectionism does not lead to perfection. However, learning from mistakes-or even making a few- will certainly lead to success.