Football, Soccer, Dads, and Coaches -

 My title sounds like the title of the song from Wizard of Oz - Lions and Tigers and Bears, Oh My!  - and to be real - this could have been the most scary part of watching grandchildren's sports this fall. 

Last year we watched a father berate and belittle his 14 year old son and the football coach multiple times, to the point of him being asked to leave the field and not return the rest of the season. And there were plenty of those sitting on the bleachers applauding him leaving, not applauding the behavior. 

Gratefully, this has not been the behavior I've seen at all these past 6 weeks as Scott and I have watched 6 grandchildren and their various sports. 

The first game of the season was 8 year old Asher's first football game. This was early September, families spread out on the sidelines on blankets, snacks, babies, shade umbrellas, relaxed and enjoying the late summer sun and the game. Fathers were standing along the boundaries holding up yardage markers, cheering their boys on, coaches on the sideline and in the field with the boys, showing and nudging the boys in their prospective positions. And no swearing, no yelling, no shaming, only loud-voiced hurrah's, atta-boy's, good-job son's. I wondered if this was first-game highs; it was almost surreal watching the dads high-fiving each other, joking about their sons new-football antics, and cheering, encouraging, bum-slapping these boys on. I kept waiting for the coach to throw his hat down on the ground and cuss, and he did throw his hat on the ground and jump up and down at every good play and each little mistake - and not a single ornery word from his mouth. And I thought - this ain't real, next game we'll see the true colors of these dads and coaches - patience will lag, they can't perform this way all season. 

Same thing with 10th grade Matt and 4th grade Layne's soccer games - families settling in for the day to watch multiple games, moving as the sun moved, from one shady spot to another. 

And same with Ava's and Tempest's junior high cheer squad - families sitting on the hard bleachers with their umbrellas shading them, visiting, pausing long enough to cheer along with the girls - Our team is "clap" dynamite, tick tick tick tick, BOOM, dynamite. And then sitting back down to wait for the next cheer and for half-time to watch these girls perform for 5 minutes in the field. (And by the way, this happened at Asher's game too - parents coming to watch the moments the girls cheered, even when there were no sons on the field). 

Senior Tyli's games were a little different - she's on the drill team, and their dances were prior to the HS football games and during halftime; so glorious to watch her dance her heart away, fully supported. And to keep us at the game for most of it, our nephew, Easton, is the star wide-receiver. Yet again, parents were amazing - going to great lengths to be there for their sons and daughters, and to be there nice. 

The season is wrapping up, with playoffs these next few days. Last Saturday we were at Asher's football game -  the coach of the other team was tossed off the field by the refs, yet parents didn't cheer or boo him, just watched. Another time a boy on the other team had the wind knocked out of him, and every single boy on Asher's team knelt down, until he could get up. Who taught these boys to "take a knee"? The sidelines of Asher's team was overflowing with parents and siblings, cheering these cute boys on, and participating in the cheerleaders' Boom Dynamite's. 

After the game all the parents ran out to the field and created an arch for the boys to run through, with loud applause. I nearly had tears in my eyes, seeing this solidarity. 

I waited to leave, watching - carefully, to see if demeanors or mannerisms changed. The coach was kneeling next to a smaller player, energetically talking with him. I thought, Uh-oh, true colors. And true colors they were - he was telling the young boy how proud he was of his hard work, how awesome the little boy had played and improved and taken the game serious. The coach thanked the boy for allowing him to be his coach! These dads were consistent, all season long. They did not change. 

And to that - I am so grateful for these men - phenomenal dads, including three sons who diligently cheered on their sons and daughters, wearing school colors, wiggling to their daughter's drills and loudly encouraging their sons. I think we're in good hands. 

Thanks for the greatest autumn ever! Looking forward to basketball season! 

                                    

Time for an Introduction - Breast Cancer is the Reason -

 11 years ago I found a lump in my left boob. That lump is the reason I've been blogging for 11 years, with more than 1000 posts since then. 

My niece, Calais, who has a tattoo'ing business in Logan, UT, wanted to highlight me and my story this month. Her pics, narrative, and my story, are a good way for me to introduce myself to those of you who have read portions of my blog. 

Here you go: 

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CyRAxK3uQxp/?igshid=MzRlODBiNWFlZA%3D%3D

John O'Donohue - And Quiet

I like poetry (not love, not adore), and there are a few poets who touch my soul. John O'Donohue is one such poet. 

Irish, often thought of as a poet, priest, philosopher, even a mystic, O'Donohue is just a few years older than me, yet died, mysteriously, in 2008. 

I think of O'Donohue as a quiet man, one who perhaps spent more time in his head - solitude and silence, nature, as his balm, rather than crowds, and it seems that his writings have attracted similarly. 

This past week I was to attend a conference for my endorsement from my faith group (something all chaplains must have), and rather than attend in person (body and soul aches) I chose to watch it on my phone, and spend that time in solitude; I just needed that "no people" time. As well, October brings me to my knees, automatically causing me to reflect on where I am, where I was, where I want to be. And this is best done in silence, when I'm working on a project, and can be peacefully in my head rather than noisily in my head. 

O'Donohue wrote: 

"When you cease to fear your solitude, a new creativity awakens in you. Your forgotten or neglected wealth begins to reveal itself. You come home to yourself and learn to rest within. Thoughts are our inner senses. Infused with silence and solitude, they bring out the mystery of inner landscape."

And so, I pulled out my sewing machine, some fabric, and created, while listening to the conference, while being at home with myself, resting. Recharged. 

Today, I called a client, she was having a tough morning, and said I was an answer to her prayers. She spoke of the disappointment she tries to skirt around, disappointment at not being able to accomplish all she wanted to before cancer hit her, not being able to do what she loves, because of neuropathy, and struggling to "be," after spending so much of her life "doing." And I commiserated with her; life definitely changes for anyone who is diagnosed with a life-threatening disease, and for their loved ones as well. 

As we finished our call, I opened a blog I read, cupofjo.com, and in a recent post, read this piece by O'Donohue, and was reminded, again, just how his words are affirming and consoling. I sent this to her; it spoke to me, I hope it reaches her. 

This is the Time to Be Slow

This is the time to be slow,
Lie low to the wall
Until the bitter weather passes.

Try, as best you can, not to let
The wire brush of doubt
Scrape from your heart
All sense of yourself
And your hesitant light.

If you remain generous,
Time will come good;
And you will find your feet
Again on fresh pastures of promise,
Where the air will be kind
And blushed with beginning.

Pause, be still, listen, heal, slow down.