The Hundredth Chance - 11/9/2008

Some clever person has observed, “Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in his shoes. Then when you criticize him, you’re a mile away and you have his shoes.”

The person we are most apt to criticize, however, is one whose shoes we’re already wearing. We all have areas of life in which we seem to be slow learners. We may ask, “How many second chances should I give myself before giving up?” The answer is simple: There’s no limit! Give yourself a hundred chances if you have to; the only failure is in no longer trying.

Sometimes the wear and tear of life makes us want to quit, sends us into a state of despondency or depression. If you’ve slipped into this quagmire, hold on. There is always hope, even if you’re feeling hopeless. The greatest among us have had such moments.

A beautiful example is Bronson Alcott, a genius in his own right and the father of Louisa May Alcott, famous author of Little Women, Little Men, Eight Cousins, and other classics.

Although Alcott was brilliant, he found it difficult to earn a living, and the enterprises he attempted all ended in failure.

After one particularly disillusioning failure—the collapse of the utopian community at Fruitlands and the damaging effects that communal experiment had on his family—Alcott fell into the deepest despair of his life. He took to bed and refused to eat or drink. He faced the wall, spoke not a word, and determined to die.

His loyal wife brought him meals each day. She begged, wept, reasoned, and prayed, but the next day, day after day, the tray of food was untouched.

Then an amazing thing happened. As Alcott neared the point of death, a rational, hopeful, unexpected thought slipped into his mind like a sliver of light entering a room through a crack. “My faithful wife, my little girls—they have not forsaken me, they are mine by ties that none can break. What right have I to leave them alone?”

Years later, in a passage which surely moved her to tears as she wrote, Louisa recalled: “Too feeble to rise, [he] groped for the food that always lay within his reach; and in the darkness and solitude of that memorable night ate and drank what was to him the bread and wine of a new communion, a new dedication of heart and life to the duties that were left him when the dreams fled.

“In the early dawn, when that sad wife crept fearfully to see what change had come to the patient face on the pillow, she found it smiling at her, saw a wasted hand outstretched to her, and heard a feeble voice cry bravely, ‘Hope!’”

Bronson lived another forty-five years, raised successful children, and eventually attained a measure of financial peace. He befriended and encouraged a promising young philosopher, Henry David Thoreau, filled an enormous collection of journals with his deepest thoughts, and in his later years became the celebrity of Concord, Massachusetts. All because of that little word: hope.

Never give up, even in dark times. Give everyone, including yourself, a hundredth chance. If necessary, make it a thousand. When the first sliver of light comes in, you’ll see that it was worth it.

This wonderful article is authored by my new friend Sammy, the publisher of my book, "Talking To Yourself Is NOT Crazy."

Samuel Patrick Smith is the president of SPS Publications, a book design and production company in Eustis, Florida. He is also the Executive Editor of The Linking Ring magazine from which this essay is reprinted with permission.

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