One of the biggest parts of supporting my daughter as she works toward her goal is helping her overcome the discouraging remarks not only of strangers, but of her own friends and family. I’ve watched in amazement as her classmates, many of whom she considers friends, and more shockingly our own relatives try to convince her that her dream is ridiculous. That she really should give up now because her dream will never come true. Of course, this discouragement is always couched in the most caring terms: The naysayers don’t want her “to be disappointed.” And sometimes they go on to criticize my parenting by suggesting that I’m setting her up for failure.

This is a child who fell in love with horses when she was three. When she was finally old enough to take her first lesson two years later, she spent the entire time with the most enormous grin on her face. The young instructor kept saying, “Look how happy she is!”

In 2000 we watched the summer Olympics on TV. At one point during the show jumping, she spontaneously turned to me and said as confident as you please, “That’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to ride for the US in the Olympics.” And she has never waivered since. If she could live in a barn, she’d think her life was perfect. I long ago quit picking up the fallen sticks in our front yard, because they become “jumps” for the many invisible horses who live at our house. We have a show-jumping course that covers the entire expanse of our yard, and she spends hours daily “training her horses” to jump higher and higher. Her room is a stable for the dozens and dozens of miniature horses she collects, each of whom has a name and a place in the pecking order. Her walls are covered in posters of eventing champions taking fences—the champions she one day hopes to join.

I don’t need her to do this for me, and I never pushed her to set this goal. It wasn’t my idea. But I believe that my responsibility as this beautiful little creature’s mother is to support her in becoming the fullest person that she can be—whoever that is. As long as she is driven to pursue this passion, I will help her as much as I possibly can. And right now, the most important job I have is breaking down the barriers that keep popping up by way of naysayers and cynics.

And it makes me wonder, why is it so hard for us to encourage another’s dreams? Why are most of us so hell-bent on disappointment as an inevitable outcome?

My daughter’s resolve has made me take a hard look at my own small-mindedness. It’s challenged me to believe once again-like I did as a child-that anything is possible with hard work and consistency and nothing is possible without it. How often have I discouraged someone or placed that little seed of doubt that can grow thick, deep roots with a word, or a look or a question?

My daughter has already taught me so much about self-confidence and determination. Because of her I have achieved some of my own goals, goals that my family told me were ridiculous and impossible. The triathlon last fall, the weekend bike ride up Skyline Drive, my upcoming marathon—all made possible by my daughter’s faith in dreams.

But keeping that faith whole is not easy. It has to be loved, and protected, and held close.