Reset: Checkmates and Second Chances

How a few redos on the chessboard turned into lessons about grace, patience, and growing up.

When the boys started holding their own in Mario Kart, I realized they’d learned more than how to win; they’d learned how to stay in the game.

So I gave them a new challenge…

one that didn’t rely on reflexes or red shells: chess.

At first, they loved it. The idea of beating Dad at something “grown-up” was thrilling.

But reality hit fast.

Kings fell. Queens disappeared. Confidence crumbled.

That’s when I introduced the redo rule.

Six redos per game.

If they made a bad move, they could take it back, think it through, and try again.

Suddenly, frustration turned into focus.

The same boys who once yelled, “That’s not fair!” were now asking, “Can I try that again?”

Each redo gave them a chance to pause, reflect, and plan.

Over time, six redos turned to four.

Then two.

Then one.

Eventually, they earned the right to choose their own number of redos…

like picking their difficulty level in Mario Kart.

The only rule: once you picked your number, you were locked in. No takebacks on the takebacks.

I didn’t want the redo rule to become an unlimited escape hatch…

just like grace, it needed weight.

If they spent their redos too quickly, they had to play the rest of the match without a safety net.

If they used them wisely, they learned to think ahead.

You could see the wheels turning.

Every move carried purpose.

Every decision had value.

And when they finally lost a game (out of redos, out of options) they’d sit back, nod, and say, “I should’ve saved one.”

That’s when I knew the lesson had landed.

The redo rule was never about making chess easier.

It was about showing my boys what grace looks like in action…

undeserved do-overs, given out of love, not fairness.

And the truth is, I need those redos too.

Not in chess, but in life.

In the moments I raise my voice too quickly.

In the times I rush to fix instead of listen.

In the ways I forget that love is patient long before it’s corrective.

Some days, I wish I could call for a redo before the words even leave my mouth.

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The Reflection

The redo rule is about formation way more than about fairness.

Each takeback was an act of grace…

a quiet reminder that growth doesn’t come from perfection, but from reflection.

Watching my boys choose humility, patience, and persistence over frustration taught me something deeper:

Grace doesn’t just change outcomes; it changes people.

And maybe that’s the real checkmate.

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The Scripture

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith — and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God.” — Ephesians 2:8–9

Grace is the ultimate redo.

Unearned. Unexpected. Undeserved.

And every time my boys replay a move on that board, I’m reminded that God gives me the same mercy…

over and over again.

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The Reset Reminder

Give your kids redos.

Not because they’ve earned them, but because that’s how grace grows.

And teach them how to use those redos wisely,

because even grace invites responsibility.

In the long game of parenting, love isn’t about checkmate;

it’s about staying at the table,

offering one more move,

and one more chance.