Trophies and fruit

I came across a box of old trophies in our attic recently. The lid was so dusty I was afraid to open it for fear of what might crawl out.

I went to a small elementary school and an average size middle school and high school. Like many firstborn children do, I put a lot of stock in people-pleasing and performance. I joined all the clubs, played a lot of tennis, sang in the choirs, and made good grades. Awards accumulated, and I felt pride in those honors, even letting them define me at times.

Ironically, now that I’m an adult, my childhood plaques and trophies have become literal baggage. We’ve moved them from house to house where they simply collect more dust in different storage areas. I don’t think about them. No one I’ve met in the past twenty years has asked me about them. Even my own children know nothing of them.

Of course, I believe there is a place and a purpose for accolades and awards. They motivate and acknowledge victories, achievements, contributions, and improvements. I am a huge supporter of honoring excellence whether it be academic, civic, or athletic. But as I get older and parent my own children and see so many kids not win physical trophies or be lauded with honors, I have to keep it front of mind that an award can never measure one’s worth. Seeing that dusty old box in my attic reminds me that we weren’t created to ever find our significance or fulfillment in our own merit. Applause fades. Memories dim. Moth and rust destroy. Character lasts.

We—and our children—have so much more to offer the world than our GPA’s, our standardized test scores, our player stats, our degrees, our bank accounts, our titles, or our trophy shelves can ever tell.

Henri Nouwen said: “There is a great difference between successfulness and fruitfulness. Success comes from strength, control, and respectability. Success brings many rewards and often fame. Fruits, however, come from weakness and vulnerability. And fruits are unique…

“Let’s remind one another that what brings us true joy is not successfulness but fruitfulness.”

I bet Nouwen would celebrate the scholarship winners and the state champions with sincere applause and admiration. But he would also be on the hunt for ways to acknowledge character growth and those who might be making smaller, less noticeable strides in the shadows.

Here’s to looking for and celebrating the hard-earned successes (yes!), but also—the fruitfulness—of the people we love this spring.