Teaching Her to Choose the Hard Thing

My daughter Grace constantly amazes me. She is smart, funny, compassionate, beautiful – all the things we pray to see in our children. The fact that she’s the youngest of three, and that we’re no longer as busy with younger children, has undoubtedly given me more opportunity to truly appreciate her.

Like all parents, I want her to do something wonderful. I don’t ever want her to be hurt or disappointed. I want her to fully live out her potential without ever falling short.

Of course, those things don’t always go hand in hand. How many of us ever achieve everything we want without at least one step backward – or sideways – along the way? Remember Henry Ford? Before he found success, he started multiple businesses that failed and left him broke. What about James Dyson? The vacuum that bears his name wasn’t his first attempt; he went through thousands of prototypes before developing the one we’re all familiar with today. And Steven Spielberg – an overnight success, right? No. He didn’t get into film school on his first try.

We instantly recognize all these names and regard them as successful. What else do they have in common? Their willingness to do hard things. And, I’m guessing, a mother who sometimes cried in the corner, wanting to protect her child from disappointment.

So where do we draw the line between protecting our kids and encouraging them?

I’m not talking about shielding them from obvious risks – like motorcycles, skydiving, and other things my kids already know they’ll do and tell me about later.

I’m talking about protecting their hearts and spirits. How do we encourage them to do hard things without tying their worth to the outcome?

At work, we often talk about outcomes versus outputs when measuring projects and performance. We place more value on the outcome – what we’re trying to achieve – than on the output, or the work that gets us there.

But when it comes to our children doing hard things, it’s different. Whether or not they achieve the goal they’re aiming for, the real value is found in the work they put in along the way. Hard work isn’t a negative thing. It’s necessary for all of us, and it teaches us that we’re capable in the first place. To be clear, the “hard” I’m talking about isn’t harmful – it’s something that requires effort and stretching.

We all want to protect our kids. But protecting them from the chance to do something hard isn’t preparing them. We aren’t giving them the opportunity to realize that they can survive difficulty. In fact, encouraging them to do hard things – regardless of whether the final goal is reached – sets them up far better than trying to ensure they never experience hardship.

My job as a parent isn’t to raise comfortable children; it’s to be faithful. Scripture reminds us, repeatedly, that growth comes through struggle.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” James 1:2–3

Here, we’re encouraged to find joy in trials because tested faith produces perseverance.

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope…”Romans 5:3–5

Again, we’re reminded that difficulty is meaningful – that it develops us emotionally and spiritually.

As Christians, we know these challenges will come whether we choose them or not. We know our children, if they’re going to grow into capable adults, will need to attempt things they’re unsure about, that require significant effort, or that they may not succeed at—sometimes all at once. The question is: how do we lay aside our instinct to protect them from disappointment and instead equip them to step out in faith and try?

We start by reminding them that it’s not just about confidence in themselves, but about having trust in God – that He has given them the ability to attempt the challenging thing.

There have been many times I’ve had to remind Grace that it’s okay to be uncertain and even a little afraid, as long as that fear doesn’t crowd out the voice God placed in her heart – the one that says she’ll be okay. Is this something we ever grow out of? I haven’t. I still doubt myself and wrestle with imposter syndrome. I know I can do hard things, yet I still let fear tell me I’m not good enough to try.

I also tell her I love her – all the time. She did great in her performance? I love you. She had an off day? I love you. We can’t tie our love for our children to their ability to do anything other than be our children.

I’ve also had to gently help her understand that months of demanding work may not always lead to the outcome she hopes for. But it will lead to her seeing her own strength and value. And I pray it always deepens her trust in God – because one day she will need that trust to endure hard things that won’t turn out the way she wants.

Recently, after she worked toward something for a long time, I gave her a gift I had chosen well before we knew the outcome. I wanted it to be a reminder that she has the determination and ability to undertake things she doesn’t think she can. My prayer is that she always sees the strength God placed within her.

So, what do we do when our kids succeed?

We celebrate. We praise their effort and courage in taking the risk – and remind them that God was with them throughout the journey.

And when they don’t succeed?

We celebrate. We praise their effort and courage in taking the risk – and remind them that God was with them throughout the journey.

See the difference?

No. Me neither.