In my little corner of the school, the students work on learning many important life skills. In addition to traditional subjects like music, art, and pre-reading, our students also learn a few more unique subjects. Using their hands, eating real food, and not hitting/climbing on/stealing from their classmates, to name a few. One of the very foundational skills the students in our class learn is walking.

As infant nursery teachers, my co-workers and I have the joy of witnessing immobile babies become fully independent walkers. This is not easily done. Learning to walk takes time. It takes practice and courage. And it takes falling down. A lot. At first just attempting to stand will result in a sudden plop on the bottom. Then they get a little balance and can stand, but to lift a foot requires support. A hand to hold. Soon they take their first tentative steps. And fall. And get up and try again. And fall. After a while they get pretty good at this walking thing – until they find the edge of a carpet or a root or a slick surface. Then down they go again. When they fall, it can be upsetting. There are many tears and sometimes bumps, bruises, or even cuts. I admire the courage and resilience of these little ones who, after a fall, receive comfort and then, very quickly, gather their courage and keep going. And as they do, they gain strength in their wee legs, learn the balance needed, and slowly begin to fall less often (that is, until they start climbing!).

This process has so many applications for the spiritual journey. Especially during this season of Lent, as we focus on struggle and repentance, we are very much like the baby learning to walk; one of the primary characteristics of the spiritual journey is that we fall down. A lot. At least, it’s a primary characteristic of my spiritual journey! As I go through my day I suddenly lose my temper or begin to worry instead of trust, or realize I’ve made an idol of my own opinion. Every day I find myself plopping down on my spiritual bottom after tripping over a train of thought or a temptation in my path.

The question is, what next? In my teen years, those sudden plops were devastating. The temptation to sit there in despair followed every fall—to refuse to get up again. It’s too scary, it hurts too much. It was during those years that a friend shared with me this quote from a letter by C. S. Lewis:

I know all about the despair of overcoming chronic temptations. It is not serious, provided self-offended petulance, annoyance at breaking records, impatience etc. don't get the upper hand. No amount of falls will really undo us if we keep on picking ourselves up each time. We shall of course be very muddy and tattered children by the time we reach home. But the bathrooms are all ready, the towels put out, and the clean clothes in the airing cupboard. The only fatal thing is to lose one's temper and give it up. It is when we notice the dirt that God is most present in us;
it is the very sign of His presence. C. S. Lewis, Letters (20 January 1942)

What a warm and comforting image! I can’t say that in the years since I was first given this quote I’ve learned to fall down less. And sometimes the falls still hurt and I feel very much like that muddy and tattered child. But maybe, in those years, I’ve learned to get up again with more peace. I am less frightened by every fall because I know, from many falls, that there is mercy. On this spiritual journey it is a blessing to remember that, like the infant room babies, we too can reach out, find comfort, grab a hand to hold when our balance is awful, and keep trying.