There’s nothing like a small game of toss the baseball back and forth with your five year old boy that puts life into a quick perspective for ya.
There’s not an athletic bone in my body unless that includes a pull up contest, in which I could probably beat most fifth graders. It’s something I take pride in. That and my uncanny ability to smell a poop diaper a mile away. Like a hound dog sniffing out a raccoon . I’ll stop now. I’m a woman of few talents. I’m ok with this.
Watching Asher ( my 5 year old son ) light up as I tossed him the ball like a 3 year old I saw something in him that I’d never noticed. He was dang good at throwing the ball back to me and real dang good at catching it in a glove. Mental note to sign him up for baseball. Major leagues.
.
As the ball went back and forth and I stood in amazement, such laughter erupted. This was healthy, as we had just had a tough afternoon with Asher . Life events hit him hard this week, and I was helpless to protect his sweet, innocent heart.
I wanted to keep him five years old the rest of his life. I wanted to keep him in the moment of playing toss with me. I wanted his laughter and joy to remain forever, unphased by life’s harshness.
But I can’t do that can I?
I’m no good at baseball. I don’t know the rules. I don’t know the ins and outs and tricks of the game. I’m not even sure if I could swing a bat to hit the ball at this point. I played softball for a month or two when I was younger. No one wanted me on their team. I could run fast as lightening , but always at the wrong time. So track team it was. That didn’t work out either. I had to run.
With several pressing issues involving my children this week, it was as if I threw my hands up and said to God:
” I don’t know anything about baseball! Or being a mom . I really thought I did. I really thought I knew the game. But I don’t . Please tell me the rules. Please tell me when to run and when to wait. Please be my coach so that I can win the game. Please help me.”
Even when we don’t know how the game works, we can be taught by a coach. We can be trained for game day. And being a Mom, everyday is game day. My game face is on as soon as that first sip of coffee enters my veins. Caffeine is Godly and I’m grateful. So is Cuban coffee.
Every game is different, some teams win and some teams really suck and you never really know which one you will play. You need to be prepared. You need to be in constant training to be victorious. You need to be in a team mindset.
Are you getting my metaphors? Good.
When we are skilled players, we know when the other team is cheating. Simply because we are so knowledgable about the game.
This Momma has her game face on from now on. No cheating on my field and everyone plays fair. And everyone gets free peanuts and juice boxes after the game.
