I love this photo for so many reasons, but it was not my first encounter with this lion. We had first met on a sunny London day in 1986 when I was fifteen. That day, I stood watching one person after another climb up to sit at his feet. I thought it would make a fun photo, so along with every tourist in Trafalgar Square, I waited in line. There were a few nerves swirling inside, it felt pretty high from the ground, and well, I’m not exactly tall, but I was determined. I watched others do it without too much trouble. Surely it couldn’t be that hard. Right? Finally, it was my turn.

I lifted my hands to find something to grab onto, but everything seemed just beyond my reach. I jumped, stretched, scrambled and yet, I failed to hold my weight. Next came the push from behind. One leg up…almost. “Push”, I heard someone say. “Use your strength and pull up by your arms”, I heard another say. I was trying, but with each suggestion and push from behind, I became more and more uncomfortable, not just with my inability to get to the top but with the emotions rising within me. ‘Oh my goodness, Fiona, why can’t you do this?’ More suggestions. The harder I tried, the weaker I felt and the more embarrassed I became. With each try, I heard the internal voice. ‘Look at you; of course, you can’t do this… You know everyone’s watching.’ Having slipped for what felt like the hundredth time, I gave up. Hopeless. With both feet firmly back where I started, I wanted the ground to open and swallow me whole.

That shame seared deep into my being and memory, although I tried to let it go and pretend it never happened.

Twenty years later, I was back in Trafalgar Square. Except this time, I kept my distance from those lions. But as we walked past, I felt a nudge. I ignored it and kept walking. After some tourist photos outside Buckingham Palace and ice cream in the Park, we started walking back towards the Square. With each step, the nudge I ignored became stronger…and then a gentle whisper.

‘You need to climb the lion.’

‘There is no way I am doing that again!’ I kept walking.

The whisper was more insistent. ‘Fiona, you need to climb the lion. You’ll regret it if you don’t.’

‘Come on…you can’t be serious.’

‘I am.’

As I continued walking towards the Square, my heart started to race. I turned to my friends and told them what happened. I put forward my case for NOT doing it. ‘We don’t really have time, and it’s so busy today.’ I called them reasons; others may say excuses! Without missing a step, they answered together, ‘You have to climb the lion!’

Before I knew it, I was once again at the base of the statue, waiting my turn. What was I thinking? I felt physically sick as I watched a few people scale up the side quickly, pose for their triumphant photo and then gracefully climb down. The wait started to drag on, and I suggested to my friends that we leave as it was taking too long. They knew it was an escape plan, and without going as far as holding me down, they refused to leave until I had been up.

And then it was my turn. I stood at the base, all eyes on me. Heart pounding, deep breath in. ‘God, this was your idea. I’m not going to do this without you!’ And with that, I grabbed hold of what I could and lifted myself up in three smooth movements. I couldn’t believe it! I was up. What?

No one was more surprised than me, and the comments I heard this time were full of appreciation for the effort: ‘Boy, she did that easy.’ ‘Wow.’ I sat there nestled in the lion, so happy and very relieved. Ok, God, I get it. Thanks for making me do it.

But he wasn’t done.

As I went to get down, a father called out from below. “Can you help my daughter get up? She’s having trouble.” She looked at me with big eyes and an expression that spoke volumes to me. Ohhhhhhhh. I reached down to grab her hand and pulled her up in one smooth action. She smiled so big, and as I made my way down, it all started to make sense. It wasn’t really about me…although I am happy that I stepped through my fear and climbed that thing, it was so much more about her. It was about helping her get up because I was already up there.

And there it was. My climb (actually, both attempts) helped her climb. He was right. I would have regretted it…more than I realised at the time. And the second climb made the first attempt worth it to see the look on that girl’s face.

Never underestimate the power of your triumphs AND your struggles to change the lives of those around you….even if it is just to help a girl climb a lion.