Fasting for Left Tackle

Fasting is not one of T's favorite things to do.

He gets hungry.

He gets cranky.

He gets distracted.

He's eleven.

It's a pretty normal response, I think.  To his credit, bless his heart, he always gets on board with the rest of us for Fast Sunday.  He does his best and is always so pleased when 'Slow Sundays' make up the rest of the month.

I think it's hard as a parent to really teach the power of fasting to kids.  We do it once a month.  We practice it, but honestly, I don't think I ever really got it myself until I was late teens and early twenties.  Meaning, I didn't really find reasons, have desire, whatever, until then.  I knew it was important.  I'd been taught all the Primary lessons, I knew other people who had done it with success, but I hadn't really applied it myself.

Enough said.  I finally figured it out.

One Friday night last fall, Hub's football traveled to the other end of the state to play a football game.  The team they played is an inner city, rougher neighborhood, tough team.  The coaching staff and players went into the game knowing the chances of a bench clearing brawl were highly likely.  At some point in the 4th quarter the Left Tackle took an illegal hit to his knee. It was bad.

So bad that he couldn't limp off the field.  He was done for the game.  His season might be over.

It was like a punch in the gut.

This coaching staff, like most coaching staffs I would say, love their boys.  Sure, it ebbs and flows from one year to the next, but this group of coaches with this group of kids, had a special bond.  There wasn't just one kid that stood out as something great, there were many.  One of them was Left Tackle.  He was a team captain. He was a leader. He was a good kid. Now his future as a player, not only in high school but college as well, was instantly questionable.

After one of the next plays, the bench cleared. Of course the bench cleared.

I was at home listening to the game on the radio, chewing the side of my cheek waiting for the game to end.

I talked to Hub after and I could hear and feel the concern in his voice. He didn't know what the doctors would say. His concern first, over Left Tackle and second, what his absence would do to his line was deep. He told me the closest thing he could describe it as was if one of our own boys was hurt.

Hub doesn't say stuff like that.

They got home and the word got out that more testing had to be done, his recovery may be long, and anyone who wanted to join in could fast for him on Sunday.

We decided as a family to do just that.

Sunday morning T came to me saying he wasn't sure he could do it.  He was really hungry.  We talked and I told him I thought it was important for him to try his hardest to fast.  That fasting is one way we can show Heavenly Father we're serious about what we're asking for.  That maybe every time he got hungry he could think of how bad he wanted Left Tackle's knee to get better, and decide if he wanted that more than chips, or pizza, or a sandwich.  He looked at me like it was a no-brainer.  'Of course I want his knee better more that I want that stuff.' he said.

We ended our fast later that day before dinner and waited to hear more.

Hub got a call from the head coach.  Left Tackle's MRI had come back that it was a pretty good hyper extension, but nothing had torn, and with some physical therapy and rest he'd be back within about 3 weeks.

I think the heaven's parted and I could hear angels singing.  I was great news!

I went to find T.

I told him the news and he hugged me tight.  He said he'd been praying all day quietly to himself that Left Tackle would be ok.

'Mom, fasting works.  I know it does.  Because I prayed and Heavenly Father heard me.'

Now, I will never say I'm glad Left Tackle took a helmet to his knee in a cheap shot.  Ever.

I will say though, that I'm glad Left Tackle is who he is.  He's made a good impression on my kid.  He works hard. He's polite. He's smart and tries his best in everything he does. He's always smiling. That counts for a lot in my book. He made my kid think that kind of stuff is cool.

He's also the oldest son of a single mom. He has a sister with a major heart problem. He hasn't seen his father in who knows how long and let me tell you, his father is really missing out.  It's not like he has a perfect life.

Left Tackle came back to play his guts out for the rest of the season 3 games after his injury.  The rest of the season included a last second win in the state championship game and signing to play with a State College.

He's a great young man.  He will probably never know that impact he's made on T.

But T does. I do. For that, I am so grateful.

Hail Mary Pass

At J's last game he threw a long ball and the light bulb went off in my head.

Raising a child is like throwing a Hail Mary pass.

The term "Hail Mary pass" was used by Roger Staubach following a game in a post-game interview. Previous to this play, a last-second desperation pass had been called several names, most notably the "Alley-Oop". Staubach, who had been hit immediately after throwing the ball and didn't see its ending, was asked about the play and he said, "You mean Pearson caught the ball and ran in for the touchdown? It was just a Hail Mary pass; a very, very lucky play." Staubach told reporters "I closed my eyes and said a Hail Mary". 

Each morning I watch J drive away with his Dad and wish for him to have a good day.  Then I see T and Lu run out the door to the bus stop and I wait for them to get on, find their seat and wave at me as the bus pulls away.  Then the house seems to sigh and sound incredibly empty.  I still feel those heart tugs.

I know I'm sending them out in the world to grow and learn and BE, but man, sometimes it's hard to let go.

Never in the history of ever has a baby been born that was self sufficient.  My babies all needed me, or someone like me, to help them with the basics of life.  The feeding, the changing, the comforting, the snuggling. I could have seriously eaten their little cherub cheeks. Can you blame me? My heart swelled and enveloped them and I promised them, myself, and God that I would do my best to raise them to be the people He wants them to be.

When they were little, our small family life was all they knew and all they needed.  They were fed and nurtured and it wasn't perfect, but it was perfect for them.  I've been sad but excited to see each phase change into the next.  

They are resilient little people and somehow they've survived my often weak attempts at parenting.

We've also been blessed to be around family and friends who have taught them things we couldn't or haven't.

We've tried to teach them to live well.  Go. Run. Play. Discover. Work hard. Be polite. We try to live a good life.  We do church, we do prayers. We do our best to be honest, to be nice and help others.  We try to live what we believe more than we say it.  

I find comfort in Proverbs 22:6.  Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it.

Is it ever really enough?   I feel the weight of wondering if I've done enough and wishing I could do more. And I understand when my parents tell me they still worry about us.  That worry will never go away.

Life gets noisy.

Do your best and then do your best to let go.

That is the hard part.

I'm so very grateful for the Savior and the gospel.  It gives me guidance and hope.

Now J is into school, sports, friends, and (gasp) girls. :) Even though he can't date until he's 16, he has a lot of friends.  He's a good mix of shy and strong.  T is finding his own voice and confidence.  Lu is only learning her ABC's, but I know she'll be a teenager in the blink of an eye.

And I worry.  

I wonder what mistakes they will make that they regret and how those things will shape them.  I wonder how they will hurt others by accident or on purpose and what they will do to try and make it better.  I wonder what opportunities they will have or create for themselves.  I wonder what pain they will have that I can not fix. I wonder what brilliance will come out of them that will change them and maybe change others.  

I want them to be strong.  I want them to make good choices.  I want them to know who they are.  That they are children of a loving God and that they have limitless potential for good.  I want them to be there for each other and keep each other on the right track.  I hope I/we've done enough to prepare them.

I hope they will have dreams and will be determined to get them  Part of me has anxiety each time I let go of my grip a little more, and part of me is so very excited for them to go live.

I know they are young and far from on their own.  I want them to know they can make mistakes, have success and have a secure place at home either way.  I send them out into the world a little at a time and hope for the best with a prayer in my heart.

Just like a Hail Mary pass.

Why I Sit Alone At Football Games

I'm going to vent a little, so bear with me.

I like to sit by myself at football games.

Actually, I sit with the other coaches wives and their kids that I'm friends with, so I'm not really by myself.

Those ladies are amazing.

And we all agree that sitting by parents is the last thing we want to do.

I have to qualify because some of the parents are really awesome.

There are some though, that I have to smile sweetly at and be patient with.  It's dangerous to think you and yours are above making mistakes.  Oh the comments...

They range from the usual 'Aw, jeeez', to 'Come on now, gotta have those!', to 'Hey Coach, how 'bout _____ '(fill in the blank - because I'm sure the coaches have never thought of whatever it is.) to some of the more cringe worthy phrases that usually include swearing.  I once heard a snot-nosed sophomore rant on Hub and tell everyone within earshot what a jerk he is.  It took every thing I had not to say something.  I didn't say anything because of Hub and I didn't want to put him in a weird position.  I'm not a prude but hey, those are MY people out there, ok?

Yes, people can say what they want.  No, I don't have to always like it.

I'm a believer in the old adage, if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.

Sometimes I wonder if people actually heard what comes out of their mouths that maybe they would stick duct tape in their bags, you know, just in case they had the urge to speak out loud.  I'm probably not going to heaven, but sheesh.  Then I turn that back on myself and I wonder how I sound.  I'm sure I embarrass myself all the time and I don't even realize it.

I don't want to hear the chatter of the fans. Don't get me wrong, I love the energy of the crowd when things are going well.  It's when they aren't that it's a bummer.

If it's going good then the players are awesome.  If it's not then the coaches stink.

At J's games, I have one friend I set by.  She films her kid too.  She just gets it.  We talk in between plays. We don't talk when we're filming for the simple reason of who really wants to hear a raving mother screaming on game film?  I mean, seriously.  It's not pretty.

Also, Little League parents can be insane.  Truly.

Thank heavens Hub has a really, really good perspective on it.  He enjoys his position, does his job the best he can, tries to be diplomatic when he has to and just lets go of the rest..

It's taught me to watch my mouth.  It's taught me to reserve judgement until I know a little more.  It's taught me that sometimes the truth hurts, but you get up and move forward.  Sometimes you make mistakes and you're not prepared and you need to work harder. Sometimes it just isn't your game. I'd like to think it's given me a little thicker skin, but I'm not so sure.  It's also taught me that what I say about others when they're not around, I should be able to say to them when they are.

Football Family

Some of the coaches Hub coaches with have been together for years.  We've all watched our kids grow up. They've become good friends. Some of the boys Hub has coached have come back to coach along side the others.  Can I say some form of the word "coach" any more in this paragraph?  Anyway, saying it's a family atmosphere only scratches the surface.

I love the feeling.

I especially love it because my kids are a part of it.  Instead of their heroes being some over publicized, over paid, over glorified, talented-but-dumb-as-a-brick thug with a criminal history, they look up to the 17 year old 6'2" center who puts his pants on one leg at a time and maybe struggles in History.  He's the boy who's mom still gets after him to make his bed in the morning and clean up the bathroom.  He's the boy who comes to practice early and stays late to help clean up.  He's the boy who listens and works really hard.  He's the boy who fist-bumps my boys as he goes by and calls them by name.  And he's not just one boy, there's a whole bunch of them that my kids look up to.

I'm so grateful for that.

Before coaching, I had no idea how involved it could be.  The hours at practice. The hours travelling. The hours watching film and analyzing.  Hours, and hours.  We just know that as the season goes the more likely Hub is to be there without really being there.  No worries, it's all good.  He's committed.

Hub doesn't coach for the money.  Honestly, it would be something like .03 cents an hour anyway, if that. He does it because he loves the game.  Plain and simple.

Before coaching I didn't realize how much I could want those players to be successful when I barely know them.  I hope good things for them on and off the field.  I hope they are learning from the game and will be better because of it.

Football is in the air and the season is half over.  The hot desert wind is changing ever so slightly and I can feel the crisp feeling of fall in the air.  Games will be won and lost.  Film will be watched and watched.  After the season we'll all retire to our own corners and keep on doing what we do until January when it all starts up again.  Yes, January.

And the game will go on.

Playing QB

J's true love in life thus far is football.

When he was younger he played line both ways.  My advice to him was always to do his best and let the coach know he'd be willing to play whatever, whenever.  He's a boy who decides he's going to get something done and rarely lets anything get in his way.  I think that's one of his best traits.  He gets to practice early, and stays late.  He watches old high school game films.  He watches college and pro games. He knows names, stats, histories.  He reads plays, he analyses film.  It's taught him some really good stuff that I'll explain more about here.  He has dreams of his own for his future.

It's his thing.

And I love what it's doing for him.

He plays linebacker on defense.  A position that he excels at, if I can be a little partial.

He's also playing quarterback.

I'll be honest.  I like him better on defense.

Obviously it's a team sport, but QB's are leaders on the field.  Everyone looks to him. Now that he is one, I'm regretting every nasty thing I've ever said about any QB in the history of ever.  He's fine with it, by the way, it's me who has anxiety.  Call me crazy, but someone saying something negative about one of my own isn't my favorite even if it is true. He has a huge bulls eye on his chest and it's not called "tackle" for nothing.  The mother in me cringes a little when I think of someone bear hugging him to the ground on purpose.

Thing is, he's doing really well and he's learned so much.  He's learning all these things about the game, and those same things he can apply off the field.

Things like how important good communication is and how to talk to others.  How to be frustrated and be polite.  How to lift others up and how to set clear expectations.  How to speak his mind under pressure.  How to tune out noise.  How important practice and preparation are.  Also how frustrating it is when he's unsure of what is expected of him and how to ask for clarity.  Or how to keep going when it's hard and mistakes have been made and the clock is ticking.  How to give his all and how it feels when others don't, and when others do. How to treat others to bring out the best in them.  How to help others dig deep and go further than they think they can.  How to do that himself.  How much it hurts to get up Sunday morning and go to church with turf burn and how much he needs to be there anyway.  How much he needs his linemen to protect him. How much he doesn't want to let others down.

Those are pretty valuable lessons in life.

Love that boy.

Being Late & Being Accountable

T has ball practice 3 times a week.  It’s always the same days.  It’s always at the same time.

Sometimes it’s hard for him to be responsible regarding being ready for practice.

I've tried really, really, really, REALLY hard to make it easy to get ready.  Really.

There’s a spot for his gear, a spot for his water bottle, a spot and a system for his practice and game clothes.  He should be able to get ready in about 5 minutes.  My hope was that he would get into a system that would work for him.  And one that he would make work for him.  Sigh…some days go better than others.

Yesterday he wasn’t ready on time.  He had been reminded.  Then scolded.  Then reminded again. Then he got left behind because his ride had responsibilities too. 

Then Mom came home and I scolded, and huffed, then talked and pleaded.  Then drove.

It’s not as simple as him not wanting to play or practice.  He does.  He loves it when he’s there.  It’s the getting there that’s the issue.  I’m afraid he’s got the procrastination gene from me and I was really hoping it would skip a generation.

As we drove I reminded him of a player on his team who consistently doesn't give his best effort.  I asked him if he remembered telling me how irritating it is to work so hard and know they guy next to you isn't giving his all.  Then I told him, with all the love I could muster, that he wasn't being much better than that guy.  That by not being there on time he was basically telling everyone on his team he didn't think very much of them or himself.

Being committed is hard work.  It’s easy to do the stuff you want to and it stinks to do the stuff you don’t.  We talk a lot in our family about taking care of business and how the small things count.  When those are done and done right, it  leads to the big things.  The fun things and sometimes the even harder things.  Specifically for T, I want him to realize the level of control he has in his own life.  I want him to embrace it and not only expect a lot from himself, but achieve the standard he sets and know he can.  Get the have-to’s over with and get on to the want-to’s already!

Basically, it’s life, and he’s ten-going-on-eleven.  And I worry.  I worry that if I let it slide once then it will be easier for me and for him to let it slide again.  Is it the end of the world because he was late to one practice?  Absolutely not. Am I focusing so intently on the one tiny tree that I’m not seeing the forest?  I don’t think so.  What we repeatedly do becomes habit and shapes who we are. 

When we got to practice, I talked to his coach, in front of T.  Not to shame (well, ok, honestly maybe a little…) but not to demean.  I told him that T didn't have a good reason for being late.  He wasn't ready and missed his ride.  I told him T owed his coaches and team an apology and I expected him to work it out and get it done.  I also told him if he needed to run him extra for being late, we supported him in that. 

He looked shocked and didn't know what to say.  Then he kind of smiled, nodded his head and said, “Thanks.”

I know this is not the last time he will be late, do something insensitive, or (gasp) make a mistake.  T is an awesome boy.  And he will grow into an even better man.

When I picked him up I saw the last few minutes of their team meeting.  I saw him stand in front of his team/friends and coaches and then he took a knee again.  I didn't ask him what he said.  I just asked him if he took care of it and he said he did.  I hope he said he was sorry and meant it.  I was proud of him.  I hope he resolved in his heart to be more responsible.  And at the very least, to give it his best effort.

Love the Game

Let it be known that I am a lover of Football.

Love the game, love the team mentality, love the very specific-and-yet-oh-so-large things that you can learn from football.  I don't profess my loyalties to one pro team, or college for that matter.  I do however bleed the colors of our high school and whatever other colors my boys may be playing for at the time.

I love sports in general, but Football is special.

I was a cheerleader in High School, which was a million-and-a-half years ago, but that's beside the point.  I loved it then, too.  The crispness in the air.  The smell of the season starting to change from summer to fall.   Starting fresh with old friends and making new ones. Meshing together as a team.  I had friends that played that did great and enjoyed themselves but knew it was a game, a phase, and then they moved on.  Something to just do.  Some though, lived and breathed it and learned from it and it shaped who they were and who they would become.

I felt that way about Cheer.  I wasn't the best, but I sure practiced hard and I enjoyed the heck out of it. One summer I set a goal to get better at a certain jump.  So I would run outside and do 10 jumps in the reflection of our back doors and then go back in and do a few dishes.  Over and over again.  I did thousands of jumps that summer.  When fall came I was the only one on the squad that could do that jump.  I was so proud.

I realized that a little hard work done consistently adds up to big results.

The first thing I though of when I saw my husband was, "Hmmm...he's pretty cute.  He looks like he plays football."  He had.  In fact, he loves the game even more than me and coaches it today.  He's amazing.  Now I look forward to seeing old friends and being part of our Football Family again.

I love what it's done for J.  He's passionate about it.  He worked so hard in 4th grade.  He set his mind to it, worked hard and recognized results.  Then he applied it to school and had great results there too.  What an awesome life lesson, I hope he never forgets it.  He's also become a student of the game.  He watches, analyzes, scrutinizes, and loves the game.  He will call the play and know where the ball is going before the it's snapped by reading the players.  It's awesome.

T does football but not in the same way, and I love that too.  His goals and talents are different.  Sometimes it's hard for the two of them to agree to disagree.  He plays because it's fun.  He plays everything because it's fun.  That's his goal.  He's able to dispel the nerves and the hype easier.  He thinks it'a awesome to win and gets over a loss easier than J.  I hope he will learn the value of "leaving it all on the field."

Lu loves football too.  When they play, she plays.  She hikes the ball and runs like mad for whatever end zone there is.  She hasn't been shoved into a pink box yet that says she can't play rough with her brothers. Sometimes though, we do have to remind her that there is no whining in Football.

I love the players who have natural born talent.  I love even more the players who have heart.  It's magical when you find a player who has both.  That's how life is I think.  God gives us talents.  It's up to us to use them for good.  It's really as simple as that.  When we do a little hard work consistently, it adds up to big results.

Winning is awesome, and well, losing just stinks.  Sometimes it doesn't seem fair.  Sometimes it isn't.  But that's how life is.  Our greatest challenges can bring us our greatest growth.  It's just as important what you do with success as it is with how you handle failure.  I think one of the life lessons is when you remember there's always next season to look forward to.  There's always tomorrow, there's always a way to be better. Get up and keep moving.

Yes, I love Football.