GROWTH IN FAILURE

Failure is nowhere inscribed as a sin. It is an intrinsic thread in the fabric of growth as natural cycle of falling and rising. Failure is not just permitted; it is essential. What remains unacceptable is the choice to reside in failure, surrendering to its weight. When you stumble, you are called to transform that experience into wisdom, a compass guiding you toward success. The tally of your falls holds no meaning; what truly matters is your unwavering resolve to rise each time and claim the victory awaiting your perseverance.

The Unbroken Weaver 
In a village known for its exquisite tapestries, lived a young weaver named Bisi. Her dream was to weave a masterpiece depicting the dawn over the mountains a vision of gold, violet, and crimson no one had ever captured. 

Her first attempt frayed mid loom. The villagers whispered. The dyes bled; the pattern is lost.
Her second tapestry tore under tension. The elders sighed; Her hands lack strength; her spirit wavers.
Her third attempt faded after washing. Even her mentor advised. "Perhaps dawn is too ambitious. Weave sunsets instead.

Bisi buried her failures in a cedar chest, each one heavy with doubt. One rainy night, she opened the chest, not to mourn, but to study. She laid the flawed tapestries side by side.
The first taught her dye chemistry,
The second revealed the need for tighter warp threads,
The third uncovered a mordant to fix colors.

She gathered these lessons like scattered gold. On her fourth loom, she blended resilience with newfound wisdom. When the thread snapped, she tied a stronger knot. When colors threatened to blur, she applied her new formula. 

Months later, Bisi unveiled her tapestry. As sunlight struck the fabric, the village gasped the dawn seemed to move, alive with light. It wasn’t perfect, but its brilliance was undeniable. 

An elder approached her, eyes wet. How did you finally capture the dawn.
Bisi smiled at her cedar chest. By stitching the night with every failure it took to learn the light.

Bisi story embodies the truth that failure is the tuition we pay for mastery. Her three ruined tapestries weren’t tombs for her dream they were textbooks. Society often mislabels failure as shame, but nature whispers the real law. A seed must split open to become a forest. What condemns us isn’t falling into the pit; it’s refusing to claw handholds from its walls. Your falls forge your foundation. Stand, Build, and Rise. Your scars are proof you’ve been tested and that you chose to outgrow the test.

Until the moment when will shall dance in white Greater Grace.

Oyugbo Osagie Jonah
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