On Losing

I hate to lose.

I don't mean like board games. We have a group that plays games, and I could really care less if I win or lose. Some people get pretty worked up about it, but honestly, my goal is usually to get to bed. 4 am comes too soon, and horses get testy if they're not fed on time.

Perhaps I just hate to lose things I've worked hard to succeed in.

I had a lousy horse show this weekend. I took a green mare who believed that the devil resided in the indoor arena and that the sunlight patches were jumps. Too bad it was a dressage test. She thought canter meant breeze a mile in 1:35 and that "A" was the starting gate. My 10 year old son scored better than me in his first dressage test ever. And it frustrated me. Those voices I talked about in the last post? They love that wide door that swings open when I lose.

I hate to lose competitions, but I really hate to lose to horses. I battled that same mare this morning. We were working on a new movement, and she reared. A lot. So we went to the round pen and battled until she did a nice, light, turn-on-the-forehand... two hours later. What made me spend two hours fighting with a half-ton animal who wanted to kill me just so she could move her haunches in a circle while keeping her front legs in place? Is that crazy? But the goal wasn't a perfect turn-on-the-forehand. The goal was to win.

I hate to lose to my patients. I don't like to pick battles with them - it's bad form and never helps the healing process. But sometimes they pick fights with me. Like screaming "I want (name that narcotic)" when they'd really like my DEA number to sell to their buddies. I have a pretty strong "no" that is at times necessary for the welfare for the patient, society, and my license, but there are times when my stubbornness gets in the way, too. I'm right. I win. Not the heart of the Great Physician. And when I fail to model that - guess what? I lose. And it hurts.

Maybe it's not that I hate to lose what I work hard in. Perhaps I detest losing in things I feel I should have done better in. I should have ridden better. I should have prepared more. I should have shown courage. I should have modeled Christ. But I didn't.

Alec won a blue ribbon last weekend. He scored a 60% - a really good score for a 10 year old in his first show. In the warm-up arena, his horse, Star, was misbehaving and began to canter. Star has a huge canter that can intimidate adults, much less a 60 lb kid. But Alec sat up, turned him in a circle, kept his head, and slowed him down. Afterwords, he walked up to me terrified. He was scared to ride his test. But he did. We prayed before hand (with a lot of people looking at us funny), and he rode well.

Alec won. Before the scores were even posted, he won.

As much as I hate to lose, I'd lose seventy times seven to see my kid win in that way. Not a blue ribbon. I'm happy he got it, but to win by showing courage? By modeling Christ? By being unashamed to pray in front of strangers who look at you like you're an alien? That's success.

Maybe that's love. Perhaps it's grace.

But it sure beats losing.