“Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
-Isaiah 43:18-19

Some of the most profound words I ever received came from my third-grade art teacher. She looked at my drawing and said, “There are no mistakes in art.” That simple statement freed me from the pressure of performance and precision.

From that moment, I began building resiliency for when things didn’t go as expected. I discovered the power of simply beginning again.

When I turned 40, I set a goal called “40@40.” The first stage was to run a 40-minute 10k; the second, to complete a 40-mile ultramarathon. To achieve this, I hired a coach, trained rigorously with hill repeats, and focused on my diet.

On race day, as I approached the start line of my first 10k, I spotted some familiar faces from my running group and lined up behind them. My coach’s parting advice echoed in my mind: “Don’t go out too fast. Start your first mile at 7:05.”

But I didn’t listen. I trusted my heart instead of my coach and fell into step behind one of the women I had struggled to keep pace with all summer. The first mile clicked: 6:15. My heart sank—I knew I had gone out too fast.

At that exact moment, my right shoelace came undone. I had to decide: stop to tie it or press on? I pressed on, even as the laces loosened with every stride. I told myself I’d stop at the fourth mile to tie it, but at mile three, the course took us through a patch of muddy construction. My loose shoe threatened to be swallowed by the slop, so I shortened my stride and clomped through the mud.

By the fourth mile, I was still on pace for my 40-minute goal. I reasoned there wasn’t enough distance left to recover from the 10 seconds it would take to tie my shoe. I kept running.

At the fifth mile marker, we entered a tunnel, with two racers right behind me. As we exited, the course veered. I turned right, but the others turned left. Ten strides later, I realized my mistake and had to turn back.

In the end, I crossed the finish line with a time of 41:34. While respectable, it was far from my goal. I had failed to listen to my coach, failed to tie my shoe, and failed to follow the course.

But in those failures, I learned.

If we can accept that the past is past and learn from it, we gain the freedom to begin again.

That Monday morning, I was back out running with my coach. It was time to begin again.

My art teacher’s encouragement—that there are no mistakes in art—reminds me that the Master Artist incorporates every squiggle into the masterpiece. Likewise, God takes our failures and weaves them into His greater design. Our missteps become invitations to begin again.

By living one day at a time, we can see that every day is an opportunity for renewal.

“Because of the LORD’S great love we are not consumed. His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning.”
-Lamentations 3:23-24

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