We are on the backside of two competitions now — Aerialympics Nationals, and just yesterday, the IAAO World Competition — and the dust is still settling. Medals were won. Some routines fell short of what our athletes hoped for. Two of our flyers, who qualified for Worlds back in June, stepped onto an international stage yesterday and placed 2nd and 5th out of 14 competitors in their division. And through all of it, one truth keeps rising to the surface in my heart:
None of this belongs to us. It was never ours to boast about in the first place.
The Season Behind Us
Over the past several weeks, our athletes have poured themselves into this sport. Early morning competition times. Long evening practices . Sore hands, sore legs, sore everything. Routines run over and over until muscle memory took over where nerves wanted to creep in. And when Nationals came, and then Worlds right on its heels, our team showed up — not just with skill, but with heart.
Some of our students walked away with podium finishes. Ensembles placed. And for two of our flyers, months of preparation since qualifying back in June led all the way to the IAAO World Competitions in Aruba — an honor that still feels almost too big to hold, representing USAAO Team USA on an international stage. Yesterday, they placed 2nd and 5th out of 14 competitors in their division.
It would be easy, in a moment like this, to talk only about the wins. To post the medal count. To let pride quietly take a seat at the table and start telling a story about how hard we worked, how talented these kids are, how much we deserve this.
But Scripture keeps interrupting that story with a better one.
It Was Never Ours to Boast About
"For who sees anything different in you? What do you have that you did not receive? If then you received it, why do you boast as if you did not receive it?" (1 Corinthians 4:7)
Every ounce of strength in an athlete's shoulders, every ounce of flexibility in a spine, every spark of courage it takes to climb twenty feet in the air and let go — none of it originated with us. The body that can do this. The mind that can learn choreography. The community that can afford costumes, gas money, competition fees, and hotel rooms. The very breath that fills their lungs mid-routine. All of it, received. All of it, gift.
That doesn't make the effort meaningless. It makes it worship. When an athlete trains diligently with what they've been given, they're not earning value they didn't have — they're stewarding a gift well. There's a real difference between pride that says "look what I built" and gratitude that says "look what I was given, and look what I did with it because I refused to waste it."
Our team didn't build their strength from nothing. But they did choose, day after day, not to waste what they'd been given. That's worth honoring — just not the same way the world tells us to honor it.
Diligence Still Matters
Here's the tension I don't want to flatten: grace doesn't mean effort is optional. Scripture holds both truths at once.
"And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up." (Galatians 6:9)
That verse doesn't promise it'll be easy. It doesn't promise the reaping happens on our timeline, or that it looks the way we pictured. It promises a harvest in due season — for those who don't quit in the meantime.
Some of our athletes reaped this season in ways they could see immediately: a title, a qualifying score, a spot on an international roster. Others worked every bit as hard and the harvest hasn't come yet, at least not in the form of a medal. Both stories are still stories of diligence. Both are still seeds planted. The sowing matters even before — and especially when — the reaping is delayed.
That's a hard thing to say to a kid who trained for months and didn't place the way she hoped. But it's true, and it's kinder than the alternative — telling her that effort only counts when it wins.
Holding Gift and Diligence Together
So which is it — gift or grit? Grace or grind?
Both. Always both.
"So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives the growth." (1 Corinthians 3:7)
The planting and watering still happened. Someone still showed up to practice. Someone still corrected their hipkey rotation for the hundredth time. Someone still climbed back onto the apparatus after already finishing two run throughs in the same hour. That labor was real, and it mattered. But the growth — the strength, the flexibility, the nerve, the opportunity to even be standing in that competition venue — that part was gift, from start to finish.
When we hold both of these together, something beautiful happens: we get to celebrate our athletes' hard work without letting it curdle into pride, and we get to receive their success as gift without it feeling like effort was pointless. Humility and diligence aren't opposites. They're partners.
What We're Carrying Forward
As our Worlds competitors catch their breath after an incredible international showing, and the rest of our team turns toward this next season of training, I want this to be the posture we carry: work hard, refuse to give up, and hold every bit of the outcome with open, grateful hands instead of a clenched, boastful fist.
"Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted." (Matthew 23:12)
That's not a threat. It's an invitation — to a lighter way of carrying success, and a sturdier way of carrying disappointment. Because when the win isn't about proving something, it doesn't have to be defended. And when the loss isn't about proving something either, it doesn't have to be devastating.
Standing Behind Our Team
Getting to Worlds — and standing on that podium — took more than talent and grit. It took a community willing to stand behind our athletes: cheering from the stands, sharing their story, and helping carry the very real costs of travel, training, and competing on an international stage. And our team isn't done — more competition lies ahead this year for all of them.
If you've been encouraged by watching this team grow, we'd love for you to be part of what comes next. Follow along, share their journey with others, and reach out if you'd like to help support them as they continue representing Eternal Aerial Arts on the national and world stage.
Every gift — of strength, of opportunity, of community — was meant to be shared, not hoarded. Thank you for being part of ours.
Peggy Ployhar, Owner - Eternal Aerial Arts
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