If you have parented a child, coached a youth sports team, or mentored another person, there is likely something you were determined to accomplish. There are tactical things we want to teach – how to hit a baseball, study for a test, or manage a task at work efficiently. There may also be other skills we want to share on the journey – how to display good sportsmanship, recover when the grade on your test wasn’t what you hoped it would be, or finish a project when things don’t go as planned.

We can be tempted to think that any of these processes are linear – we do A, then B, then C, then the vision or project is complete. I don’t know about you, but I can count on one or two hands the things in life that work out that simply. But, joy is a daily part of my life because the journey – even on the roughest days – is where God teaches me so many beautiful lessons.

Determination is the mailing address where our truest convictions reside. Take the little league coach, for example. If our ultimate vision is winning at all costs, that frames our determination. If winning is incredible but character and sportsmanship matter most, that frames our determination.

The best parenting advice I ever received was simple: Outlast them! We don’t have to be smarter than our children or have all the answers. We just need to be unwaveringly determined to raise them in the ways of character.

If you’re new to parenting, take your vitamins! Every day is a refiner’s fire for parents, who must figure out what they truly believe. Determination follows our beliefs, not the other way around.

We were always grateful for teachers, extended family, coaches, Sunday School teachers, neighbors and others who poured into our kiddos. One of the things Wendell and I wanted our children to learn was the value of caring for those potentially more vulnerable than they were. This came in many forms. Our son had a buddy in first grade who was deaf. They became pals walking to and from each spot in the school. Our daughter has a tender spot caring for critters who need a little TLC.

One practical thing we taught them was to hold the door for anyone who needed assistance. That meant they had to always have their head on a swivel, looking for the opportunity to serve. Just like it is for us, sometimes the looking is the harder part than the doing.

When our children were about 5 and 6, our son was going through a phase where he got distracted and would unintentionally let the door close on others. We were never angry about it. This was just a childhood phase of life. While it wasn’t a crisis, it was a habit we were determined to address. Follow-through is the ultimate test for identifying what we value. As parents, we felt like it was a constant dialogue. “Be thoughtful of others.” “Always look before you close the door to see if there is someone you can help.” You get the picture.

Our son was beginning to make good progress, and we found ourselves looking for opportunities to compliment him on his efforts. All of the children’s grandparents lived in the Oklahoma City area, so we were frequent travelers on the Turner Turnpike. We stopped at McDonald’s at the midway point. As we entered the restaurant, Kyle spotted an older individual approaching the door at the same time as he did. I remember beaming as a proud mom when he held the door. Kyle was patted on the head, then thanked for being a little gentleman. Kyle looked relieved – no correction, no lecture, he had conquered the task. As soon as he began to relax, his eye caught a reason to stay put. A huge touring bus was unloading its passengers. A flow of senior citizens, like Niagara Falls, was entering the McDonald’s. Kyle was now in full door-greeter-at-church mode. He knew the right thing to do even when his tummy loudly spoke the language of french fries and nuggets. Our determination became his determination.

Determination isn’t about grabbing yourself up by your bootstraps. Determination isn’t about gritting your teeth and enduring. Determination – whether you’re a little tyke or an adult – is believing in something so deeply that, despite any obstacle, you can’t imagine doing anything but finishing.