Like all of us, I mourn with the folks of Boston, the participants and spectators, family and loved ones of anyone remotely connected to the Marathon yesterday. Friends, I'm so tired. Aren't you tired? I feel like here we are again with another sad face as a country. Again and again the loss of life is senseless. We don't even know who is behind this attack yet, and it doesn't even matter to me. It's heartbreaking...
Will we get to the point where we are living in constant fear of our normal routines? Will we become so adjusted to tragedy that it becomes a way of life. If I ever stop shedding tears for those suffering tragedy I will know I've adjusted. I hope I never adjust. Last night, many hours after learning the news of the Boston Marathon bombings I finally sat down to focus on the news coverage. Courtesy of the news networks I received a front row view of exactly what happened. My 13 year old had already done her own research and was blown away that something so awful could happen to people just trying to do something they love. Simply heartbreaking. I shed my tears. My heart aches for those affected by this. Another sad face for America. I am so tired of frowning.
Then I went to Facebook. Lots of folks lifting up prayers to those affected. Following every cry of injustice, those posts go round and round. I wish people were praying when things were good. If we as a people consistently sought God we would know that prayer changes things; that lives are changed, protected, shielded by the Great One, just because of our prayers. But, for the most part, we don't. We get wrapped up in our own lives and we forget to put God first. Until tragedy strikes. What would happen if we reversed the pattern? What if we consistently prayed and sought God and when tragedy got ready to hit we were so prayed up, so juiced up on God we saw the miraculous pieced together? We would see God move mountains.
The one thing I took away from social media's coverage last night was the repeated quote by Mr. Rogers. Man, who didn't love Mr. Rogers when they were young? I mean, the man took the time to change his shoes, while giving us good advice, and singing us a song. A gentleman. His quote said his mom taught him to look for the helpers in any tragedy. Focus on that. Man, that's good stuff. The good in folks springs right into action when the situation calls for it. Always. Every story has a hero. Many heros. I pray for that. I pray that should tragedy find us unexpectedly the good in people will take over the fear. Thank God for that yesterday.
I don't want to live imprisoned by fear. I don't want my kids to grow up thinking fear is their neighbor, their friend or their constant companion. Yet over and over again America is saddened by the loss of life because of an individual or a group. We want to get to the source so we can answer the "why." But when it's answered, what do we do about it? Do we change laws? Do we revamp our entire mental health system? Often we don't. As a country we are broken. Our government can't agree on much of anything, our financial state is a mess. There is so much division an disunity it's sickening. We attack each other for sport leaving lots of open holes for the enemy to creep in and rip the hole into a deep, infected gash. Then the next tragedy hits and we are left saddened again. It's time to stop frowning, America. It's time to take action in the good times. It's time to be proactive instead of reactive. When nothing's happening something should be happening. We shouldn't be making plans to deal with the next tragedy or massive episode of fear. Waiting for it to happen. We don't think our individual selves can make a difference, but we can. Each one of us has the power to change our hearts, to be more loving, to seek God more, to not be hostile or confrontational. It's heavy on my heart this morning, I'm sure yours too. America is sad again. I'm so tired of being sad.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, April 8, 2013
Call Me 'Coach?!?'
The thing about metaphors, common sayings and phrases is not only the visual picture they give you that helps you understand what the speaker is saying, but the resonant truth to the saying is what really gets you. So when I say I "bit the bullet" I mean I can taste the cold steel in my mouth. Figuratively, of course. But it sure feels real. I can taste the bullet I have bitten and let me tell you, it tastes bad. Or uncomfortable, is probably a better way to describe the emotional roller coaster I have set myself upon.
I would say I've done a great job stalling on stepping up to the plate to actually coach one of my kids in their beloved sports. In my defense, from my comfortable perspective I have hardly viewed it as a stall tactic. Well, it's time to admit to you. That which was a reluctant option has now become a decided on choice. I've been flung over to the other side. Like "whole body, pitched into icy water" flung over. Not sounding so much like "decided on" huh? You know how it is. This back and forth in your mind between what you don't want to do, what you feel like doing and what you know you should do. Now that I'm doggy paddling out here in this little old lake that I've been thrown in, I see this whole coaching thing completely different. The Hub tells me it really isn't even a lake. More like a kiddy pool. Yet here I am, arms flailing, feet splashing and gulping for air. In a kiddy pool. You don't have to tell me to get a grip. The Hub, and my sweet children have already had their chuckles at my expense, and have encouraged me to embrace my new endeavor. I'm a big girl; I can admit it: I was definitely stalling on this one.
With four kids, you would think it was inevitable. You would think at some point one of those kids would need a coach and I would stop ignoring the pleading emails and donate my time and energy. You would think. But I would venture to say there ARE some parents out there who have multiple children and have not EVER crossed the game field lines into dark and scary world of coaching. But rather, they are the same ones sitting comfortably with me on Saturday mornings. Sweatshirts keeping us toasty since the morning sun hasn't burned off the chill in the air quite yet. Doing that little "I'm chilly" shake, while pleased as punch to be out watching our kids. Sitting in our little game chairs that are specially made to keep our rumps comfy as we sit. Really hot cup of coffee, sweetened just right, in that beautiful travel mug made for just these occasions. The cup might as well say "I'm spectating like it's my job."
And then it's game time. You should know I can cheer, yell, jump, shake my head and cover my eyes with the best of them. In fact, over the past 12 years I have perfected my pitch, tone, appropriate responses, and most especially my game faces. It's all about the faces. Well, now that has become my previous life. Somewhere round about the 3rd email strongly pleading for someone, anyone, to step up and coach boys U7 soccer, I caved. Okay, at the 2nd email I thought about it strongly and was fully prepared to defend myself with that should I ever be questioned about why I was not coaching. I mean, at least I thought about it. Yet, here came that pretty little 3rd email. And what was a mama to do?
Sure, I played soccer when I was a kid. But I was the one who quit eventually. Moved on to something else, and now that was so long ago I can barely remember it. Obviously relying on previous personal skills is not my selling point as a coach. Shockingly my husband and kids didn't mind pointing that out to me. They just want to keep me humble, that's all. Here I find myself in this little situation, and my boy needed me. I've got Soccer Chick playing travel soccer this season, Bball Girl is playing basketball like she gets paid for it and then there's youngest. Couldn't have my little ball of sunshine coachless, no could I? So up I stepped, and what do you know, I got me a team. Say what?!?
The great thing about leadership really boils down to who you place around you. Smart leaders place strategically. A really great leader places people around her who not only helps her, but knows more than her. In this case, I'm feeling pretty smart. Smug even. My assistant coaches are none other than Soccer Chick and Bball Girl. What fool wouldn't put these two athletes to work? Shoot, whatchu talkin' bout? I might not be the best person for the job but I have two energetic, athletic, young, sports-minded girls to run this show. Did I mention "young?" All I've got to do is show up with a plan and put these girls to work. The boys will love them!
So I've got my plan in place and now I just have to implement the plan. As any leader knows, a plan is just that...a plan. It does nothing if you don't do something with it. Which means, I'll be out there on the field, running with these boys, trying to teach them what I'm not an expert at myself. I mean, it's ten (yes, 10!) under 7 boys. How hard could it be? Google helps with this, right? Give them a ball and some cones and two goals and we've got a game. This thrust-from-sports-chair mom-coach thinks this should be easy...right? Trust me, no one is laughing more, and finding the humor in all this, than I am. Here's to the chalk lines that shall be drawn on the playing field! Wait...how does that happen, anyway?
I would say I've done a great job stalling on stepping up to the plate to actually coach one of my kids in their beloved sports. In my defense, from my comfortable perspective I have hardly viewed it as a stall tactic. Well, it's time to admit to you. That which was a reluctant option has now become a decided on choice. I've been flung over to the other side. Like "whole body, pitched into icy water" flung over. Not sounding so much like "decided on" huh? You know how it is. This back and forth in your mind between what you don't want to do, what you feel like doing and what you know you should do. Now that I'm doggy paddling out here in this little old lake that I've been thrown in, I see this whole coaching thing completely different. The Hub tells me it really isn't even a lake. More like a kiddy pool. Yet here I am, arms flailing, feet splashing and gulping for air. In a kiddy pool. You don't have to tell me to get a grip. The Hub, and my sweet children have already had their chuckles at my expense, and have encouraged me to embrace my new endeavor. I'm a big girl; I can admit it: I was definitely stalling on this one.
With four kids, you would think it was inevitable. You would think at some point one of those kids would need a coach and I would stop ignoring the pleading emails and donate my time and energy. You would think. But I would venture to say there ARE some parents out there who have multiple children and have not EVER crossed the game field lines into dark and scary world of coaching. But rather, they are the same ones sitting comfortably with me on Saturday mornings. Sweatshirts keeping us toasty since the morning sun hasn't burned off the chill in the air quite yet. Doing that little "I'm chilly" shake, while pleased as punch to be out watching our kids. Sitting in our little game chairs that are specially made to keep our rumps comfy as we sit. Really hot cup of coffee, sweetened just right, in that beautiful travel mug made for just these occasions. The cup might as well say "I'm spectating like it's my job."
And then it's game time. You should know I can cheer, yell, jump, shake my head and cover my eyes with the best of them. In fact, over the past 12 years I have perfected my pitch, tone, appropriate responses, and most especially my game faces. It's all about the faces. Well, now that has become my previous life. Somewhere round about the 3rd email strongly pleading for someone, anyone, to step up and coach boys U7 soccer, I caved. Okay, at the 2nd email I thought about it strongly and was fully prepared to defend myself with that should I ever be questioned about why I was not coaching. I mean, at least I thought about it. Yet, here came that pretty little 3rd email. And what was a mama to do?
Sure, I played soccer when I was a kid. But I was the one who quit eventually. Moved on to something else, and now that was so long ago I can barely remember it. Obviously relying on previous personal skills is not my selling point as a coach. Shockingly my husband and kids didn't mind pointing that out to me. They just want to keep me humble, that's all. Here I find myself in this little situation, and my boy needed me. I've got Soccer Chick playing travel soccer this season, Bball Girl is playing basketball like she gets paid for it and then there's youngest. Couldn't have my little ball of sunshine coachless, no could I? So up I stepped, and what do you know, I got me a team. Say what?!?
The great thing about leadership really boils down to who you place around you. Smart leaders place strategically. A really great leader places people around her who not only helps her, but knows more than her. In this case, I'm feeling pretty smart. Smug even. My assistant coaches are none other than Soccer Chick and Bball Girl. What fool wouldn't put these two athletes to work? Shoot, whatchu talkin' bout? I might not be the best person for the job but I have two energetic, athletic, young, sports-minded girls to run this show. Did I mention "young?" All I've got to do is show up with a plan and put these girls to work. The boys will love them!
So I've got my plan in place and now I just have to implement the plan. As any leader knows, a plan is just that...a plan. It does nothing if you don't do something with it. Which means, I'll be out there on the field, running with these boys, trying to teach them what I'm not an expert at myself. I mean, it's ten (yes, 10!) under 7 boys. How hard could it be? Google helps with this, right? Give them a ball and some cones and two goals and we've got a game. This thrust-from-sports-chair mom-coach thinks this should be easy...right? Trust me, no one is laughing more, and finding the humor in all this, than I am. Here's to the chalk lines that shall be drawn on the playing field! Wait...how does that happen, anyway?
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Consequences of Adventure
Being rather brave folks, The Hub and I decided to take the teens of our church ice-skating last night. As an avid-roller-skater (by avid I mean solely in my head and not by my feet in oh, say 20 years pretty much) I figured ice-skating would be similar. I have seen those professionals on TV and I know it can't be too particularly easy, but...how hard could it really be? I can do it...
Off we go to the lovely ice-skating rink in Reston. Thankfully not too many souls out there on a Friday night. As we hit the ice, all of us grabbed ahold of the wall, immediately our best friend in this venture. But oh, Youngest, he entered that rink, and I kid you not, did not touch the wall. He just glided on out on the ice and took off. As he lapped us for about the 6th or 7th time we decided to pick our jaws up off the floor. This is the same kid who told us to remove his training wheels when he was only 4 years of age, because he had "seen" someone else ride without them and he could do it too. A testament to the power of believing in what you can do? We reluctantly removed those training wheels, more as a "we're the parents and we know better and this is an opportunity to teach you a lesson" type occasion. We were wrong. He coasted on his bike, a little wobbling here and there but he never fell. Amazing. We shouldn't have been surprised to see him gliding on ice skates making it look way too easy. This time he didn't even wobble. So unfair. Seems so unnatural. But I guess that's just it, for him it's all natural. Safe to say, he had a great time.
The majority of the rest of us made fast friends with that wall and didn't want to let go. Ever. It took me a bit, and I was shaky at first. I'm happy to say I made it all the way until the end of the night before taking my first spill, and that was a result of someone knocking me off my game. Once I got my balance figured out, I could go pretty well too. Not to get too confident in myself, I had BBall Girl also looping me as a reminder. She had no troubles at all, either. Both her and Youngest were showing off to tell you plainly. I started to trip them one time just to bring them down to my level. But you know, the mature adult in me said no, let's not be petty now...
Our teens, including Soccer Chick, remained on the wall for the most part. I got Soccer Chick to finally, after about an hour, let go of the wall and come around with me. I had gotten the hang of it, but like so many other things in life, just because you got it, doesn't mean you can help someone else get it. She would have been the opposite of Youngest. Where he had no doubt whatsoever that he could do this, she believed firmly that she couldn't. That inhibited her success more than her actions ever could have. Poor girl. Like I said, I finally got her to let go of her BFF wall, and off we went. We were doing pretty good until one unfortunate tumble where she lost her balance, fell towards me and I wasn't able to be the rock she needed me to be. Hey, I'm no wall. We both fell and I whacked my butt, followed by a sound thud of the back of my head on the ice. Ouch...
At first I couldn't even get up, and immediately had a massive headache. Pretty sure this is as close as I will come to having that NFL concussion experience. After two or three failed attempts at even getting up I somehow made it over to my new BFF wall. There was my night in shining armor, The Hub to greet me. Did I tell you he's smarter than me? He retired his skates about half an hour before I did. He knew he had done enough show-boating and schmoozing with skilled teens on the rink, and before anything stupid happens, go ahead and turn those skates in. He's smarter than me, for sure. He had face planted, butt planted and wall smacked enough times to know he was done trying to be Mr. Big Shot. But there he was coming to my rescue, and man was he the best sight for me to see. Poor Soccer Chick, hurt her fingers trying to catch my head, which instead got pinned under. What a mess. I'm thankful there are no YouTube watchable moments for this, because I am quite sure it was ugly. Uglier than ugly. It felt ugly, so I know the look of it would have brought me embarrassment for days.
And where was the skate monitor anyway? All night they were skating up to folks who fell to help them get up and make sure they were okay. I tell you I laid on that ice unable to get up, feeling dizzy and dazed and thought now where in the world has that girl gone too. She was inside the skate booth chatting with her co-workers. That also is like life, we can't take a break from doing the things we are supposed to be doing, because you just never know when some poor sap is laying on the ice needing help. Man down! Well, like I said I got myself over to the wall, definitely with the help of Youngest and BBall Girl who, with their ever-compassionate selves were very worried about their mama. The Hub made me feel better, rubbed my now aching knot on the back of my head, and declared it was time to go...for me at least. No more skating for this old gal. I thought about getting back in there a few minutes after resting, but The Hub gave me a stern look that said don't be stupid. Sit your butt back down. That's what that look said, and I read it loud and clear.
All in all, it was fun. I'm glad we tried it. Other than youngest and Bball Girl, I'm not sure we'd be excited to try it again. Now, take me to a roller skating rink and I think I'd be alright. I can confidently say I used to be a dynamic skater. Like an every-Saturday-afternoon skater. An every-Christmas-new-skates skater. You folks from Charlottesville know that Roses at Barracks Road had those shiny whites with beautiful red wheels on display every single Christmas. And I couldn't wait to get my newest pair and head on down to the rink. Eventually they closed the rink down and messed up my life and for sure my career in roller-skating. I could be dreaming, probably am, but I think I still got what it takes for the roller skating bid. Ice-skating I'm not sure to mess with anytime soon. After all, I have woken up this morning feeling dazed and confused, and like I should call my coach and tell him I'm out for the next two or three regular season games. My head is aching and to add to my misery, my whole body hurts. Ice-skating is a great workout by itself. After running 45 minutes on the treadmill earlier in the day, it's pretty much guaranteed the next day will be painful.
I'm going to take it easy today. Moving slowly and recuperating by vegging out, other than BBall Girl's upcoming game (where they will be working to advance to an 11-0 season, by the way!). If you're heading out to do something new and adventurous anytime soon, beware of the ice. It's unforgiving as my butt and my head can tell you twelve plus hours later. How are the rest of the folks this morning, you wonder? Youngest is just peachy, I can faintly hear him making all his imagination sounds as he turns his room into yet another adventure. BBall Girl is washing clothes at the moment (don't get me to raving, she's a girl after her mother's own heart) and Soccer Chick, much to my envy, is still sound asleep. The Hub is working on his sermon, and relatively pain-free, because again, he is smarter than me.
Off we go to the lovely ice-skating rink in Reston. Thankfully not too many souls out there on a Friday night. As we hit the ice, all of us grabbed ahold of the wall, immediately our best friend in this venture. But oh, Youngest, he entered that rink, and I kid you not, did not touch the wall. He just glided on out on the ice and took off. As he lapped us for about the 6th or 7th time we decided to pick our jaws up off the floor. This is the same kid who told us to remove his training wheels when he was only 4 years of age, because he had "seen" someone else ride without them and he could do it too. A testament to the power of believing in what you can do? We reluctantly removed those training wheels, more as a "we're the parents and we know better and this is an opportunity to teach you a lesson" type occasion. We were wrong. He coasted on his bike, a little wobbling here and there but he never fell. Amazing. We shouldn't have been surprised to see him gliding on ice skates making it look way too easy. This time he didn't even wobble. So unfair. Seems so unnatural. But I guess that's just it, for him it's all natural. Safe to say, he had a great time.
The majority of the rest of us made fast friends with that wall and didn't want to let go. Ever. It took me a bit, and I was shaky at first. I'm happy to say I made it all the way until the end of the night before taking my first spill, and that was a result of someone knocking me off my game. Once I got my balance figured out, I could go pretty well too. Not to get too confident in myself, I had BBall Girl also looping me as a reminder. She had no troubles at all, either. Both her and Youngest were showing off to tell you plainly. I started to trip them one time just to bring them down to my level. But you know, the mature adult in me said no, let's not be petty now...
Our teens, including Soccer Chick, remained on the wall for the most part. I got Soccer Chick to finally, after about an hour, let go of the wall and come around with me. I had gotten the hang of it, but like so many other things in life, just because you got it, doesn't mean you can help someone else get it. She would have been the opposite of Youngest. Where he had no doubt whatsoever that he could do this, she believed firmly that she couldn't. That inhibited her success more than her actions ever could have. Poor girl. Like I said, I finally got her to let go of her BFF wall, and off we went. We were doing pretty good until one unfortunate tumble where she lost her balance, fell towards me and I wasn't able to be the rock she needed me to be. Hey, I'm no wall. We both fell and I whacked my butt, followed by a sound thud of the back of my head on the ice. Ouch...
At first I couldn't even get up, and immediately had a massive headache. Pretty sure this is as close as I will come to having that NFL concussion experience. After two or three failed attempts at even getting up I somehow made it over to my new BFF wall. There was my night in shining armor, The Hub to greet me. Did I tell you he's smarter than me? He retired his skates about half an hour before I did. He knew he had done enough show-boating and schmoozing with skilled teens on the rink, and before anything stupid happens, go ahead and turn those skates in. He's smarter than me, for sure. He had face planted, butt planted and wall smacked enough times to know he was done trying to be Mr. Big Shot. But there he was coming to my rescue, and man was he the best sight for me to see. Poor Soccer Chick, hurt her fingers trying to catch my head, which instead got pinned under. What a mess. I'm thankful there are no YouTube watchable moments for this, because I am quite sure it was ugly. Uglier than ugly. It felt ugly, so I know the look of it would have brought me embarrassment for days.
And where was the skate monitor anyway? All night they were skating up to folks who fell to help them get up and make sure they were okay. I tell you I laid on that ice unable to get up, feeling dizzy and dazed and thought now where in the world has that girl gone too. She was inside the skate booth chatting with her co-workers. That also is like life, we can't take a break from doing the things we are supposed to be doing, because you just never know when some poor sap is laying on the ice needing help. Man down! Well, like I said I got myself over to the wall, definitely with the help of Youngest and BBall Girl who, with their ever-compassionate selves were very worried about their mama. The Hub made me feel better, rubbed my now aching knot on the back of my head, and declared it was time to go...for me at least. No more skating for this old gal. I thought about getting back in there a few minutes after resting, but The Hub gave me a stern look that said don't be stupid. Sit your butt back down. That's what that look said, and I read it loud and clear.
All in all, it was fun. I'm glad we tried it. Other than youngest and Bball Girl, I'm not sure we'd be excited to try it again. Now, take me to a roller skating rink and I think I'd be alright. I can confidently say I used to be a dynamic skater. Like an every-Saturday-afternoon skater. An every-Christmas-new-skates skater. You folks from Charlottesville know that Roses at Barracks Road had those shiny whites with beautiful red wheels on display every single Christmas. And I couldn't wait to get my newest pair and head on down to the rink. Eventually they closed the rink down and messed up my life and for sure my career in roller-skating. I could be dreaming, probably am, but I think I still got what it takes for the roller skating bid. Ice-skating I'm not sure to mess with anytime soon. After all, I have woken up this morning feeling dazed and confused, and like I should call my coach and tell him I'm out for the next two or three regular season games. My head is aching and to add to my misery, my whole body hurts. Ice-skating is a great workout by itself. After running 45 minutes on the treadmill earlier in the day, it's pretty much guaranteed the next day will be painful.
I'm going to take it easy today. Moving slowly and recuperating by vegging out, other than BBall Girl's upcoming game (where they will be working to advance to an 11-0 season, by the way!). If you're heading out to do something new and adventurous anytime soon, beware of the ice. It's unforgiving as my butt and my head can tell you twelve plus hours later. How are the rest of the folks this morning, you wonder? Youngest is just peachy, I can faintly hear him making all his imagination sounds as he turns his room into yet another adventure. BBall Girl is washing clothes at the moment (don't get me to raving, she's a girl after her mother's own heart) and Soccer Chick, much to my envy, is still sound asleep. The Hub is working on his sermon, and relatively pain-free, because again, he is smarter than me.
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