Several months ago, I had an opportunity to view a collection of bonsai trees. The phrase “In training” was written on a placard by each tree. At the time, it struck me as odd to consider trees being in training, they’re trees, don’t they just grow? Although bonsai trees do “just grow,” they are also trained to grow in very unique and specific ways. As I walked around the gardens, I reflected on how this verbiage might be applied to people. Because we are all still “in training.”

There was a time in my life when I believed certain people to be infallible, almost omniscient. As a kid, anyone older than 18 seemed so grown-up and wise, surely they had acquired all the answers. Ha! Re-reading that previous sentence made me laugh out loud with embarrassment. But, if I’m being honest, when I was young, I truly did believe that sentiment. The first time I realized that even the people I had idealized were simply human, it struck me hard. Even now, I’m still occasionally disappointed when I have to acknowledge that I had fallen into the old habit of believing some people are beyond mistakes.

During the first part of my professional career, I had a chance to work on Capitol Hill as well as at two different medical schools. I like to joke that I’ve seen how legislation is made and how doctors are made. But, all jokes aside, one of my biggest realizations after working in these sectors is how human everyone is. All my interactions with this wide range of individuals reminded me that no matter someone’s title, experience, or prestige, no one was perfect, no one had all the answers, or never made a mistake. I realize this is an obvious observation, but I feel it’s worth emphasizing, because even though we likely all know this reality, I think sometimes we struggle to accept it as actually being reality. It’s important to remind ourselves that we are all still in training.

I remember the day we brought our son home from the hospital. Since he arrived pre-term, we had an extended hospital stay. During that time, he lost weight and by the time he was discharged, he was even smaller than when he was first born. He just barely passed the newborn car seat test that confirmed he was strong enough to breathe. I held him carefully as we exited the hospital through the automatic sliding glass doors and I remember buckling him into his car seat and thinking, Wait a minute, who said we were responsible enough to bring this tiny human home? Who determined we were capable of keeping him healthy and alive? Who is going to check on us to make sure we’re correctly caring for him? Despite my tendency to research extensively and prepare as much as possible for the future, I felt completely unqualified to be a parent. And, eight years in, I’m still in training.

Over the course of the past year or so, I’ve found myself navigating complicated layers of grief. Despite the increasing familiarity of the overwhelming grieving process, I’m still caught off guard when new sorrow presents. I know hardships and heartbreak are a part of everyone’s life, I’m aware my emotions are not particularly unique, but despite realizing this, I still feel ill-equipped to navigate it. Despite having confronted multiple rounds of grief in my own journey, I still don’t know what to say to someone experiencing difficult grief, I still do not know how to fully process heartbreak myself. Despite doing my best throughout my life to learn and grow in my spiritual journey, and especially throughout sorrow and loss, I still struggle to embrace hope. Despite seeking out and implementing spiritual practices, I know I still have a lifetime of faith to pursue. Being in training really is a daily journey.

So, my still-in-training looks like this: I’m in training to be a parent, learning something new every day about my kids and how I can better raise them to become independent individuals. I’m in training on my spiritual journey as I spend time in contemplative reflection and pursue daily growth in my faith walk. I’m in training as I continue to navigate new rounds of grief and do my best to cling to hope and healing. And I’m still in training to extend grace to myself and those around me, realizing anew every day that in life, we are all still in training.

Wendi is co-author of The Unexpected Ever Afters blog and enjoys sipping extra hot coffee, sharing a love of reading with her kids, and exploring bike trails.

photo credit: personal photos