Success is to be measured not so much by the position that one has reached in life as by the obstacles which he has overcome.

                                                                    –Booker T. Washington

About a year ago, a very ordinary moment turned into a profound experience that feels both hugely important and highly confusing to me. I think of it often, because it seems like the Rosetta Stone for understanding life challenges. Unfortunately, I have not been able to crack the code. But I know you can, so I am sharing this story for you to decipher. I would love to hear your thoughts.

Here’s what happened.

It was time to go to preschool, and Alia’s helper was a no-show. Since Alia cannot stand or walk on her own or feed herself—yet!—she needs an adult caregiver to accompany her. I didn’t want her to miss out on a fun morning with her friends, so I decided to call off from work and go with her instead.

We spent the morning playing with blocks, painting, gathering round for Circle Time, and searching for toys buried in the sand table. Alia was having fun. I incorporated her physical therapy exercises into her playtime, as I do every day at home.

Although the tremors make it difficult for Alia to balance, practice makes her stronger and more stable. So we practice. A lot. Everywhere. Including here at preschool. And she was doing awesome! I usually hold her at the hips to keep her from shifting too far to either side, and as she finds her balance, I let go for a second at a time. Tiny taps to keep her centered, with increasing pressure as she gets tired or moves her legs. But today, she was so steady, I was letting go for five seconds at a time, then ten, then twenty! Incredible! And not just once, but she was able to keep her balance over and over again.

I was so happy for her! So proud! If we were in a movie, this would have been the big ending—huge, sweeping music; slow motion footage; the camera circling around Alia, triumphant, as she stands in the middle of the classroom, on her own!

In real life, though, what happened was…nothing. No one even noticed. And truly, I mean no one. Not the teachers who spent every school day with her for the past seven months, not the other kids, not the program director who was in the room, not even Alia. She was busy playing.

It took 5,000 hours of physical therapy to make those twenty seconds possible. How is it possible that I am the only one who noticed? What does it mean to pour heart and soul into achieving milestones that are invisible to the people around us, milestones that 99 percent of us achieve simply by waking up each morning?

I struggle to remind myself that although Alia’s challenges are visible and obvious, we all have challenges. How many times have I missed someone else’s amazing moment? What about people who struggle with a serious alcohol problem—a recent headline cites 32 million Americans last year alone—who showed the courage and strength to stay sober that day? Obvious to them, probably second by second, yet invisible to me. Or people dealing with the loss of a loved one? Or the 20,000 people in the United States who call domestic violence hotlines on any given day? The list of distressing human conditions goes on and on.

Knowing that most of us, maybe all of us, face significant challenges that test our sense of well-being does not make me feel better. Knowing that these challenges offer each of us an opportunity to better understand ourselves and the people around us, does. So, what did I learn from the experience that morning?

I don’t know. Do you?