The Weight...

Perhaps you thought you were clicking on a weight loss themed blog post or maybe an update in my journey to #justshowup.  My apologies if you feel misled.  Rather, this blog post, having brewed and percolated in my mind and heart for months, is a partial chronicle...for you wouldn't want to know the full chronicle...of our family's journey through the world of sports.

More than once in the last 13 years, I've found myself sitting in a lawn chair or in the bleachers getting completely caught up in the sporting event in front of me.  I've had things go through my brain such as "if he doesn't catch that ball, so and so will think less of him, so I DO so hope he catches that ball" or, at other times, "if he doesn't make the goal when they pass it to him, so and so will think less of me as a mom, so he BETTER make that goal".  These thoughts have ranged from mild, during games or matches or races when they were six years old and still looking so adorable, to quite deep, during games when hundreds of folks are watching and feel entitled to give their opinion of MY boy, whether to the people sitting nearby, to the town as a whole, or to my boy himself, when they see him in public.

Without fail, when we return home and begin the debriefing, I remember who I am and who my boy is and what that event was and I realize the absurdity of my thoughts.  If I can just remove myself from the situation enough to clear my head, I will realize every time the fault in my thinking.

For it occurs to me in quiet moments of reflection that maybe we place a weight on these games which they were never intended to carry.  Is it possible that we have elevated the importance of the goal or the catch or the bunt or the fast lap to a level where it was never meant to be?  Am I allowing myself to slip...or jump, at times...into the trap that tells me my child's value and identity are wrapped up in his number of rebounds?

So, where does that leave us?  Shall we quit all of the teams?  Of course not.  Some of the greatest lessons in life are learned on the field, in the pool, on the court, or what have you.  Even greater lessons are learned at our kitchen table or in Mr. Wood's study, as we debrief and talk about what we could have done differently or better.  Conceivably, the greatest lessons are learned in failure and disappointment, in unfair treatment...whether real or perceived...because it is there when we are often the most honest, the most open to the learning.

No, quitting the teams is not the answer.  The answer lies in realizing the lightness of the games.  They are not heavy.  They do not weigh us down.  These boys in our home...they are who they are with the games, and they will be who they are without the games.  They are Isaac...his daddy's right hand man, Ezra...fearless leader, and Simon...passionate and loyal one.  Should all of the games and races and matches disappear tomorrow, they will remain Isaac...his daddy's right hand man, Ezra...fearless leader, and Simon...passionate and loyal one.

Mr. Wood and I have been entrusted with these three.  Most days, I barely get the kitchen sink wiped off and the permission slips signed, but  I do so long to be found faithful in all of the ways, not the least of which being teaching them the lightness of the events and the profound weight of their character.