weekend seats

The wet grass stuck to my boots as I trudged across the wet soccer field.  45 minutes early to the game, per the coach's instruction, I set up my red chair and took my place on the sidelines.  It was a gorgeous, autumn Saturday for soccer.   Hot pink socks, new to the team for the month of October, adorned the fast legs of #14, the boy I had come to watch.  Our preparation for the game had started  earlier in the week as we had talked about the competition.  "You're going to play great!" was the mantra that I had repeated over and over.  At home, we prayed for the game and "oiled" him  up for the game (Young Living Oils); in the car Michael played his favorite playlist, songs to inspire him.  He was ready.  I sat in my soccer spot, delighting in watching my son do what he loves.  Not only is he skilled at the technique of soccer he is also a strong team-player, an encourager, and a coach-able player.    I love the camaraderie that the collective parents share as we cheer on our boys.  Saturday soccer has become one of my favorite activities.   The game ended in a tie, both teams fighting hard. As I packed up my chair and headed back across the  field, my heart welled up with gratitude for these opportunities  that Michael has to play well, to be coached by an incredible coach, and to get to have fun with his friends.

My minivan is literally my favorite thing,  and the seat I sit in is one of my favorite seats.  Really, I view it as a place of honor that I was chosen for, a location from where I fulfill this calling on my life of motherhood.  From this special seat,  I navigate around our lovely town  carpooling numerous kiddos, getting groceries, taking friends places. etc.  Saturday, I got to take Meredith to a birthday party for one of her good friends.  My sweet girl is just the best kind of friend.  If I was 11, I would want Meredith on my team of friends.  She is loyal and kind, she looks to meet the needs of others, and she is constantly thinking about her friends.  I love listening to her process the relationships that she has.  Nearly knee deep in middle school,  she has keen observations about what her friends say, what they wear, who they are, how they feel.  She has extreme empathy and is less worried about herself fitting in and much more aware of how to help her friends fit in.  I love how much she loves her friends. God created Meredith to be a good friend, and it is a blessing to watch the joy in her spirit when she gets to be with her special friends. . 

Later on  Saturday, I drove to south Denver to watch Maddie and her band participate in a competition.  The fall sun beat down on us as we watched from the metal bleachers.  Band after band after band took the field and performed their current show.  Parents and directors wore t shirts in their school's colors, words written across chests and backs proclaiming school pride.  There was a crispness in the air as we anticipated the FRHS show.  They are the best at what they do and they have the trophies to prove it.  Hours of rehearsals paying off on this one night.  I glanced to my left during a rival school's performance and noticed that our band was coming onto the field.  Pride flooded my heart and goosebumps covered my body as I watched them line up.  I am privy to the knowledge of why they have their backs to the field - it's to keep them focused, and it does.   The pomp and circumstance surrounding their presentation thrills me as I wait for them to make their final march to the field.  I've heard the music before, yet I just can't wait for that first note from the xylophones.  Maddie starts her dance between the 40 and 50 yard line.  I see her from my stadium seat, my heart sending out prayers for strength to catch her flag every time, which she does.  Occasionally I lose sight of her as she moves about the field but throughout the performance my mama energy is focused on her.  My beautiful red head  has persevered through hours of stress and practice and has emerged as a skilled member of this excellent marching band.  My emotions are raw, and I can't hold back the tears of gratitude that flow in honor of all that Maddie has achieved.

It's now Sunday morning,  the day that we go to church.  .  "Who is coming to church this morning?" the text says.  "Everyone" I write back.  Marky has been rehearsing since 7:30, pumpkin spice latte in hand to assist with the early hour.  I arrive at church and we make eye contact across the sanctuary.   She moves towards me and I give her a hug that somehow I know that she needs.  "You're going to do great", I say.  Her shy smile and shallow breathing show me that she is nervous.  We part ways and I take my seat on the cushioned pew.  I have sat in this seat countless times.   I have worshiped in the place countless hours.  The comfort and peace that our church gives our family is a blessing.  When Marky was 8, she  told me that her 2 favorite places in  the world were Grandma's house and our church.  I feel the same way.  It's a safe place to be, a familiar place to go.  I watched Marky take her seat at the piano on stage, a piano that I have sat at many times myself.  I listened to the notes that she played, oblivious to all other sounds.  This sweet child of God, serving Him with the gifts that He has given to her.  I'm standing now, arms raised, praising my Lord who has  made Marky's life so beautiful.  In this very space, many years prior,  I begged God to help me and my girls.  I cried out to Him to take the pain and shame of divorce, and turn it into something beautiful for my daughters.  Sunday, I felt God tell me "I heard you.  Just look at her.."  God was so faithful to answer those cries for me and my girls, and on Sunday, from the fingers of my daughter, I heard Him whisper "I love you."

Many different seats this weekend to enjoy this life I've been given.  Kids to celebrate and cherish.  Evey moment giving an opportunity to say "That's my kid!  Aren't they amazing?"

Fall

I'm reading a book right now called "Rising Strong".  So far it's been a fantastic book, filled with encouragement and insight.  Of course it's good, it's by Brene Brown who tends to write as if she has just finished reading my personal journal, offering solutions to every negative or destructive thought I've had throughout the day.  A strange thing happened while I was reading the other day.  The previous night did not offer much quality sleep so I was tired and my clarity of thought was feeble as I was turning pages, but every time I read the word "fall" my tired eyes and brain changed the word to "fail".  What the what?? This book was about getting back up strong after a fall, not about failing!  As I have mulled over my crazy word exchange, I feel as if I have peeked deep into my soul at one of my biggest fears.  The fear of failing.  Interestingly enough, I don't fear falling.  I expect falling and I have a pretty good track record of dusting myself off and getting back up.  But FAILING?  Well now, thats just unacceptable.  And what's the difference?  Well, it seems like I attach failing with my intentions, and I see falling related more to something unexpected happening.  If I'm unprepared for something and I fall, I don't see that as failure, I just see it as I have to try again.  Failiure on the other hand debilitates me and does a number on my self-esteem, telling me I'm not good enough to try again.  Both have to do with worthiness.  Am I worthy enough to take another try at something whether I fall OR fail? Letting go of past failures doesn't have to be ongoing.  I CAN just. let. go.  And trust that falling and failing don't have to lead to defeat.  My Jesus will make me victorious, fighting the battles I face FOR me.  Exodus 14:14 says, "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still."  Stillness in the falling and failing.  An attitude of my heart that trusts Him in every situation, knowing that whether I fall or fail or stand or succeed, He is holding me. And everything I know about who my God is will quiet my fears and steady my feet.