Belief

When I was in elementary school, I was a big fan of anything gymnastics. I learned to do cartwheels, back walkovers, and handstands at home with the help of my sister and Hollywood Palace, a tv talent show that featured a wide variety of performers. We would watch the show and try to imitate the gymnastics skills of the performers. We'd also sing our hearts out to be like the singers, but the gymnasts motivated me.

On one of the shows I saw a woman do a cartwheel without using her hands. I called it a "no-hand cartwheel" and would later learn that gymnasts called it an aerial. After seeing this gymnastics move performed on tv, I was determined to learn to do it. I began practicing in earnest. 

My technique was to do a cartwheel and use my hands less and less each time. I'd speed up my efforts and touch and release my hands. I'd do cartwheels over and over using my hands less and less. I'd push off harder from my supporting leg and fling my legs over my head to touch down again with out the use of my hands, if possible. I was marginally successful but believed I was making progress. I worked and worked without any coaching or a clue as to how to make it happen. 

I did all my gymnastics training in the living room and adjoining dining room of the old farm house in the evenings where I grew up. My Mom was usually in the kitchen and my Dad was often in the living room either reading the paper or watching the tv at the end of the day. He tolerated me flying by with these cartwheels landing right in front of his chair for days on end because winter in North Dakota on a farm doesn't offer a lot of options. 

On one night in the winter in my 10th year, with Dad sitting in his chair, I did it! I did the "no-hand cartwheel" without my hands! My dad looked up just in time to see it happen and gave me a big smile as I beamed with my success. I had done it! I would do it again. 

I was sweaty and tired, I had used the short carpeted runway in the living room over and over again and I had done an aerial and my Dad had witnessed it. Then Dad sent me to bed. Not sure if he was tired of watching the Tasmanian devil spin past him all night or not, but he said, "Well done, now its time for bed." 

Naturally, I fussed and whined, but I went to bed fully tired and fully pleased. 

The next day and many following days I worked at my "no-hand cartwheel." I had marginal success, but it seemed when Dad was in the room I had more success. His presence, even when he wasn't paying attention, made me try harder. I believed more in myself when he was watching and I had greater success when he was in the room. So, I began to believe that I could do the aerial if he was watching. He continued to give me positive feedback when I'd accomplish the objective. It happened more often, in fact almost always, when he was in the room. 

When my Aunt Lorraine (Mom's sister) was visiting, my Mom mentioned that I was wearing out the carpet with my attempts at a "no-hand cartwheel" and had finally learned to do it. My Aunt said, "Let's see her do it!" They called me in from playing with my cousins and asked me to show this skill. I was hopeful but lacked confidence that I'd actually be able to demonstrate this new feat. I made a couple of attempts without success. Then I got a break. 

Dad was working at the farm shop that day and at that moment he came in the back door. I was struggling to perform the aerial and said, "If Dad watches, I can do it." He smiled at me and instantly gave me confidence. The others in attendance (my cousins had come inside to see this aerial cartwheel too) were not as convinced as I had failed in a number of attempts. But as soon as I saw my Dad I knew with him watching, it would be easy for me. 

I lined up at the far end of the dining room and looked at my Dad. He gave me the look that I knew meant I was his little girl and nothing was impossible. I took the four quick steps, pushed off with my supporting right leg and made it happen! My Aunt Lorraine and cousins cheered. It was a success. Dad smiled at me, grabbed a cookie, some coffee and went back to work at the shop. 

It happened a few other times where I wanted to perform this aerial. If I had trouble, even when I was just practicing, I'd ask Dad to come watch, and I'd do it to perfection. His presence was all I needed. His presence was the manifestation of my confidence. He believed in me more than I believed in myself. He never took credit for my success, he just believed in me. I borrowed his belief and knew that his confidence in me made anything possible.