The Wisdom of Effort

Yesterday, my daughter Zoey and I found a fledgling bird on our patio. It was soaked from rainstorm that had pushed through, unable to fly, and clearly not okay. It fluttered toward some birdseed but couldn't take off. I thought maybe it had just left the nest too early and gotten hypothermic. So, we dried it gently with a towel, made it a warm and safe nest in a box, and set it inside to rest through the storm. I did everything I could. I researched, reached out to people I trust and who have raised birds, and even asked ChatGPT.

But when I woke up the next morning, the bird had passed away.

I cried.

Not because I didn’t try hard enough but because I did. I did everything right. I laid out the best plan I could. I followed through with care. I used all the tools, all the wisdom, all the love available to me. Yet it didn’t matter. It didn’t work out the way I hoped.

That moment held something sacred.

Because here’s what no one likes to admit:

We can do everything right and still fail.

We can have the knowledge, the resources, the mentors and still lose the job, still mess up the launch, still fall short of the goal. The world does not always bend to effort. However, that doesn’t mean effort is wasted.

This is where many people give up. They hit a wall, feel the sting of failure, and convince themselves they’re not cut out for what they had hoped to achieve. They stop trying not because they’re lazy, but because trying but being unsuccessful hurts. Because effort without reward can feel like futility.

But I want to offer a different perspective:

Effort itself is a form of wisdom.

It tells you who you are.
It shows you what you value.
It builds something in you, even when the outcome looks like loss.

After burying the bird under a crepe myrtle in my flower garden, I sat quietly. My heart was heavy, but I knew I had honored its life. I had also honored my effort.

As I sit writing this at my desk I have looked out my bedroom window, where a small bird feeder is suctioned to the glass. I have noticed something beautiful: a flurry of birds came and went all day long, eating the seed I had put out. My effort for one bird may not have panned out, but the care I offered continued to ripple in ways I hadn’t seen.

Not every effort is fruitless. Some just bloom in different directions.

Maybe that’s the lesson I needed most.

In our home, my husband and I tell our kids the same thing over and over: “We don’t expect perfection, just effort.” Didn’t get the grade you wanted? That’s okay. Did you try? Then we’re proud. We celebrate that.

Because effort is all we ask.

And if I believe that for my children, if I teach them that trying is more important than succeeding on the first try, then I need to offer that same grace to myself. To honor my own effort and recognize the sacredness in showing up, even when the outcome isn’t what I imagined.

So today, I want to invite you into this reflection with me.

Where in your life are you giving everything you’ve got, even if the outcome hasn’t matched your hopes?
Where have you quietly honored effort, even when no one noticed?
Where have you dismissed your progress just because it didn’t come wrapped in a win?

Let’s change that.

Let’s reclaim the wisdom in effort.
Let’s stop seeing setbacks as proof we’re not enough, and start seeing them as invitations to keep going.

Because (the towel, the box, the care, the research, the love) you gave something of yourself. That is not nothing, it is everything.

So today, refill your feeder.
Notice where your effort still ripples.
Celebrate the sacredness of trying.

Even when things don’t go as planned, your effort is never wasted.

It’s the root of wisdom.
The start of change.
The seed of every real shift.

Reflection Practice: Honoring Your Effort, Even When It Didn’t Work Out

Take a few quiet moments with a journal or your notes app. You don’t have to fix anything, just bring gentle awareness. This is not a time for judgment. Instead, approach this moment with kindness and curiosity.

1. Recall a time when things didn’t go the way you hoped.
It could be something big or small. A job you didn’t get, a conversation that went sideways, a personal goal that didn’t land.

• What happened? What did you hope would happen instead?

2. List the effort you gave.
Think about all the ways you showed up.

• Did you prepare? Research? Try something new? Seek help? Stay consistent?

• Write down everything you can remember doing, even the invisible effort.

3. Set aside judgment. Gently notice what you’re feeling.

• What emotions come up as you revisit this moment?

• Where do you feel them in your body?

• Is there any shame, regret, anger, grief? Can you name them without rushing to fix them?

4. Detach the outcome from your identity.
This is just something that happened. It is not who you are.

• What stories are you telling yourself about this “failure”?

• If you were watching a friend go through this, what would you say to them?

• Would you offer grace? Encouragement? A reminder of their heart?

5. Offer that same kindness to yourself.

• What would it feel like to believe effort still matters, even when it didn’t “work”?

• Can you write yourself a short note of compassion or encouragement as if you were your own best friend?

6. Ask: What did this effort build in me?

• Did it clarify what matters to you? Strengthen your resilience? Teach you something new?

• Even if the result wasn’t what you wanted, what did the process grow in you?

7. Close by affirming your effort.
Take one deep breath. Say (or write):

“I tried. I showed up. That matters.”

Let that be your offering to the day. You are not defined by what went wrong. You are shaped by how deeply you cared.