Graceful Loser

A while back my husband thought it was a good idea to start 7 year old Noah in wrestling.  If you have ever watched your own child wrestle - you know its a lot like watching a train wreck.  It's horrible.  I want to march right out there and grab that other little kid by the hair and haul him out.  And the other father pounding his fists on the mat and yelling, "Take him down!  Quit Crying!  Get him!"  I want to grab him by the goatee and ask what my Noah ever did to him.  Ya.  It's pretty brutal.  And I might have sportsmanship issues.

Noah is a 73 pound 1st grader.  Because of his size he ends up wrestling the big dogs.  It's no secret he's scared.  He gives it his all and sometimes he gives up.  And sometimes there are even tears.  But never anger or attitude.  When someone mentioned medal and victory stand at his last tournament he perked right up.  It didn't matter if there was only 4 kids in his weight class. And one couldn't be found. And he only won 1 match out of 4.  Nope.  He marched right up there like an Olympian class winner.  He smiled big as Christmas.  He shook the other competitors hands.  He studied his medal, took it home and hung it in his room.  He told everyone we saw that he won a medal.  My Noah was a winner!  Or a happy loser!  It doesn't matter what you call it - I couldn't have been more proud.

A couple months ago I sat straight up out of bed and declared to Jace, "I figured out how we are going to buy that house.  That big, beautiful, landscaped house on the hill."  I then spent the next couple months dreaming of living there and trying to explain to the listing agent how I could make this deal work.  I was already arranging furniture and picking out paint color for the brick.  Jace and I would often drive by slowly trying to appraise it's great value in our tiny town.

The listing agent for the property was smart, and quick, and way experienced.  She ate me for lunch.  My "wheelin and dealin" skills apparently still need some work.  So we were thrilled when we finally got the call this week.  The listing agent needed us to submit our best and highest offer in writing.  She was going to present it to the homeowners the next day.  I spent all day writing and proofing my offer.

My cell phone rang at 7 this morning.  Another offer had come in.  The listing agent would present both offers to the homeowners this morning.  Choke.  Cry.  And pray.  But I already knew what the outcome would be.  I knew before the phone call.  I knew when I couldn't sleep last night.  The homeowners accepted the other offer today.

I guess it wasn't meant to be.

It still hurts.  We lost.  We are the losers.  I really wanted to win.  I really loved that house.  I think I'll ask Noah if I can borrow his wrestling medal.  I will wear it proudly around my neck and around the town.  I'll wear it when I stalk the streets looking for my next "dream" home.  If Noah can smile and lose like a winner, then so can I.  If my 7 year old can wrestle the big dogs then so can I.  And I'll learn to do it gracefully.