Friday, September 13, 2013

David's First Battle



As a former coach, I have lots of stories.  Some happy, some sad, some exciting.  I remember one in particular . . .

My team, ranked in state, had to play another team in our conference that was ranked above us.  Both teams had a “feature” player.  Both teams had a solid core of talent.  By any account, it was to be an exciting game and as you can imagine, the gym was packed.

While the junior varsity team played their game, I wandered into the locker room and was surprised to see “my star player” sitting on a bench in front of a locker by himself, holding his head in his hands.  I thought he was just getting himself ready, getting himself fired up.

I sat down next to him and asked something like, “Are you ready?”  He took has hands away and I noticed he was weeping.  He said, “Coach, I think I’m going to choke.”  Not what I had expected to hear.  Not what any coach wants to hear, especially just before an important game- one that would eventually decide the conference championship.

He was honest and sincere.  He was also genuinely afraid.  And yes, in his own words, he choked.  Probably his worst game.  We got killed.  Not just because of this young man.  Not at all.  The team we played had a powerhouse, a juggernaut that went on to compete at the state tournament.  But we got killed and this young man didn’t play well at all. 

You might say he lived up to his expectations.

Remember the story about David and Goliath?  I don’t know if it is or was a true story, but like many such stories, there is a point to it and one can take something from it . . . if one chooses to, that is.

David was just a boy.  He volunteered to take on this beast, this giant of a man.  David tried to wear the king’s armor, but because David was so small, nothing fit.  The armor would have been more of a hindrance than a help, so David went into combat only wearing the simple cloak he had on.

Not sure what weapon Goliath used.  Spear or sword, perhaps.  As big as I picture Goliath to be, perhaps just his bare hands. 

David’s weapon?  A slingshot and a few stones.  Hmmmm . . .

Not sure what the king was thinking.  Not sure what Goliath’s king was thinking.  Not sure what Goliath was thinking.

Mostly, I’m not sure what David was thinking.  A boy vs. a man.  A little guy vs. a big man.  A slingshot?  Really?  You’ve got to be kidding, right?

As a coach, I went into games with the crew I had to work with.  As I look back, we mostly did all right.  Actually, far better than just all right.   

However, there were those games when, honestly, I sort of felt like how David’s king must have felt.

But that got me thinking . . .

Goliath was David’s second battle.  I think David had a much tougher battle before he ever fought Goliath.

I think David’s First Battle was a battle with himself.  He had to face, confront and defeat his own fear.  Sometimes fear is a very formidable opponent.  Fear is insidious.  It sneaks up on us and takes us by the throat and throttles us mercilessly.  It incapacitates us.  Renders us weak, befuddled, ineffective.  Fear renders us powerless, sometimes freezing us in place preventing us from moving forward or backward.

But David won his First Battle.  He overcame his fear.  He defeated his fear.  And as the story is told, he defeated Goliath and saved his nation.  Probably saved his king a ton of embarrassment, too.

Oh, and the young man I mentioned earlier who wept before the big game?

He might have lost that battle, that first battle.  But he overcame it a second and third time, not just one time.

You see, he went on to receive a football scholarship to a huge Midwest Division One college team that you’ve all heard of.  He went on to get himself drafted into the NFL.  He went on to play for two teams and had a nice career as a linebacker.  A very gifted athlete this young man was.  Who had to, at one time or another . . . just like each of us has to at one time or another . . . win his, win our, First Battle.  The battle over fear.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Change In The Air



I love fall.  By far, it is my favorite season.  It has always been my favorite season.

I love the colors of the trees.  The rusts.  The yellows.  The reds.  When one walks in the woods, there is that familiar sound, the crunch of leaves underfoot.  I don’t get to walk in the woods as much as I did as a kid . . . as much as I did when I was younger.

I love the Change In The Air.

There is a coolness, a crispness to the air.  Nature plays games with us because daytime can be hot and humid, but then evening slips in and carries with it a chill, a coolness.  A walk outside might turn a nose or a cheek to apple red.  A time for sweaters and sweatshirts.  Jeans and a jacket.  I had a favorite bright red sweater I wore as a kid.  Still see myself running around in the backyard with my brothers in my jeans with the cuffs rolled up.  Our cheeks and nose red from the chill.

I love the Change In The Air.

Cherry and apple pies.  Warm apple cider with cinnamon.  The smell of cookouts replaced by the smell of a wood fireplace. 

Happens every year.  Every year.  Every one of my fifty-nine years. 

The thing about change is that it happens.

It happens every year.  Over and over.  Time and again.

Nothing we can do to stop it.  Nothing we can do to prevent it from happening.  It is as natural and as normal as can be.

I’ve written about growing up next to a river.  That river has taught me a lot.  Sometimes I think that river . . . nature . . . has been my best teacher.  One of the things I’ve learned is that if you dip your fingertips into the river, even keeping your fingertips in the water, even for a long time, you never touch the same water again.  You never touch the same drops more than once. 

You see, water passes.  It moves on.  It never stays in one place.  The river is governed by the current and the current is the river’s master.  The current is always moving. 

Your fingertips might not move.  You can keep them as still as can be. 

But no matter. 

The river passes.  It moves on.  We move on.  We might not like it.  We can try to stop it.  We can fight it.  But the river, as does time, passes by.  It is a given in nature . . . our one great teacher.  Time, like the river, passes by.  It moves on.  And we move on.  We might try to snatch it out of the air.  We might try to grasp it.  We might try to hold onto it.  All in vain.  All in vain.

So we can fight it . . . or embrace it.  We can resist it . . . or accept it.  We can enjoy the colors, the cool, the crisp air . . . or dread it.  Fret about it.  Worry about it.  It won’t matter, because Change will occur whether or not we want it to.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Friday, September 6, 2013

Be That One!



Just for a moment, I’d like you to read this and then shut your eyes and answer it.  Ready?  Here we go . . .

Think back to a time when someone said or did something hurtful to you . . .  Shut your eyes and think about that for a moment.

Chances are, you thought of the person who said or did it, the time and place where it occurred, and the exact or nearly the exact words or actions that were used.  Some of you might even picture the time of day and what the weather was like.

For some of you, this took place years ago, but you remember as if it were yesterday.

How powerful words and actions are!

For me, it was early in the sixth grade.  We were on the playground and a group of my friends were standing around talking and as I approached them, one or two drifted away.  Three turned to me and one said, “I’m having some friends over and you’re not invited.”  He and the other two friends turned and walked away . . . laughing.  Yes, they laughed.

For the life of me, I can’t tell you why.  I can’t tell you what I had done or said.  I can’t even tell you what I didn’t do or didn’t say.  I was stunned.  These were my friends.  Guys I hung out with.  I had always done things with them.  Always.  I was one of them.  But now, I was excluded.  I didn’t know why and to this day, still don’t know why.  But I can tell you that I was hurt deeply. 

Now, I want you to read the next statement and then shut your eyes and answer it.  Ready?  Here we go . . .

Think back to a time when someone said or did something to you that made you feel so good . . . Shut your eyes and think about that for a moment.

Once again, chances are you thought of the person who said or did it, the time and place where it occurred, and the exact or nearly the exact words or actions that were used.  Some of you might even picture the time of day and what the weather was like.

And like the hurtful words or actions, perhaps, it occurred years ago, but you remember as if it were yesterday.

There were so many kind words and actions given to me over the years, that I’m having trouble choosing just one.  In fact, it was far easier to remember the hurtful words and actions than the more pleasant memory.

Interesting how that happens, isn’t it?

We might remember the negative far easier, and perhaps far longer, than we recall the positive. 
I think we need to remember, especially those in positions of authority, that our words and our actions mean something.  They have an impact- either positive or negative.  And sometimes the negative outlasts the positive.

Scary, really.

So my charge to you this day . . . my charge to you every day . . . is to choose your words and actions carefully and wisely.  We might not ever know what impact we might have on whom.  Further, I ask that you Be That One that makes a positive impact in what you say and in what you do.  Life is so short.  We need to help and not hurt.  We need to build up and not tear down.  Please, Be That One!  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!

Tuesday, September 3, 2013

Both Joy And Tears



Interesting day today . . .

A new year.  Our first day of school. 

Remember those days?  So excited.  So scared.  So worried.  Need to make a good impression.

The night before we settle on just what to wear.  Has to be perfect.  Have to look nice.  Organized the backpack.  Labeled our folders.  Nice and neat.  Ready.

I stand on the first floor and greet kids as they come into school.  Some ask for directions to their rooms, their lockers, where to find . . .  While some, well, they look so scared.  Heads down.  Eyes nowhere, but everywhere.  Ears open.  Antenna working overtime.

One little girl in Tears because she couldn’t find her homeroom and was afraid she’d be late.  Told her not to worry, but worry she did.  We got her there in time, but so scared.

Other kids so happy.  Smiles.  Laughter.  Hugs and handshakes.  Joy.

Several kids so small.  Tiny, really.  I can’t imagine I was ever that small even at birth.  No way.  Yet there they were on their first day, lugging their heavy backpack.  A backpack about as big as he/she/they were.  Hunched over from the weight.  I had the urge to stop them and say, “Hey, what’s in there?”  I’m thinking, ‘They’re hiding a small VW Bug in there!’

Both Joy and Tears.

Parents sending their son, their daughter to school for the first time.  Walking them to the bus stop.  To the school door.  With a wave and a hop, they disappear.  A parent’s heart about to burst.  Tears, perhaps.  But oh, the smile on the child’s face.  Especially the young ones.  Excited.  Eager.  Joy.

Both Joy and Tears.

So much of life is the same coin, just opposite sides.  The same coin, though.  As the coin flips, Joy turns to Tears, and Tears turn to Joy.  Sometimes, Tears mean Joy.  Still, the heart breaks.  There’s a sigh.  A catch of breath.  Our smile falters.  We wave as our child waves back at us with a smile, and little do they know we die a little inside.  Inside, where no one can see.

I imagine there are those of us who go through each day like that. 

A smile, yet sadness hidden behind that smile.  A laugh, only to hide the pain, the sorrow.  Reminds me of the song Smokey used to sing, Tears Of A Clown.  Zak Brown has a lyric that says, “Sometimes I feel like a clown, who can’t wash off his make-up.”  How many of us are like that?  Each day.  Every day.  Sometimes.  Maybe not often, but sometimes.  Something to think about . . .

Live Your Life, and Make A Difference!