If It's Not One Thing, It's Another

Can we chat a little about this ‘thing’ everyone keeps bringing up?  Is this a phenomenon in your life as a parent, because it seems to be coming up a lot lately in mine?


“So, your daughter does gymnastics ten hours a week – I guess that’s her ‘thing’ huh?” 


“So, your son played basketball, lacrosse, and baseball this year.  I like the diversity, but which one of those is his ‘thing?’”


“So, my child really loves singing, but she’s much better at acting, and I’ve been trying to convince her that theatre should really be her ‘thing.’"


Now really people, isn’t this parenting gig perplexing enough without adding another ‘thing’ to worry about?


The truth is, I can see the importance of a child having a ‘thing’ in his or her life – a sport, activity or academic ability that encourages him to practice hard, set goals, and master skills; something that builds her confidence while promoting her determination to improve; a focus that affords a growing boy or girl the opportunity for vital childhood experiences like participating on a team, respecting authority, competing for a prize, supporting others, taking criticism, failing, succeeding, sacrificing. 


Honestly, I’ve spent some sleepless nights wondering when my own children would find their ‘thing,’ and whether or not I should play a more serious role in helping them find it.  A ‘thing’ could keep them out of trouble, after all.  It could give them the chance for character building encounters and, who knows, maybe even the possibility for an exciting future based on their abilities or experience – a championship, a scholarship, a career.  Extremely unlikely on all three accounts, but hey, you never know.   Maybe there is something to this idea of forcing their hand. 


Perhaps I should be telling my children to “Pick one and go all in.”


After all, a childhood and adolescence spent on a driving range might not lead to crystal trophies and millions in endorsements, but it might lead to a job as a sports writer or a golf cart salesman or a putting instructor.  Countless hours spent on a piano bench might not lead to a sold-out audience at Carnegie Hall, but it might lead to a career as a music teacher or a score writer or a recording engineer.


I believe a passion for a game, sport, activity or subject can absolutely provide a child with the chance at a future utilizing the knowledge gained from the time they’ve invested in such endeavors.  And in a world where our focus tends to last as long as it takes to send a text message, maybe it would be beneficial to ask my kids to stop all their dabbling and choose something . . . one thing . . . to make a top priority.


But . . .


What if my child doesn’t have a ‘thing?’  What if my son tries every sport in the book, enjoys each for different reasons, does fairly well at all of them, but doesn’t ever find a favorite?  What if he never gets any better than average at tennis and golf and basketball and playing the trumpet?  What if my daughter spends the next six years of her life (and half of our life savings) in a gymnasium, only to realize at age fourteen that she no longer wants to compete on the vault, bars, beam and floor?  What if she wakes up one morning and wants to try cheerleading or softball or crocheting instead?


I think we’ve become so fixated on making sure our children have a thing to focus on that we’ve completely lost focus.  We’re allowing doubts about the future to blind us, and the blur has become more than just concern about our where our children are headed down the road.  It has become worry about where they are right now, and if we're not careful, I'm afraid it might turn into words and actions that make them wonder if they should be worried too.


Our children should not be worrying about their futures. 


Not yet.


Let them worry about kid things for now.  Let them worry about making their beds, finishing their homework, and cleaning up after themselves. 


There is all the time in the world for the big stuff.  They have entire adulthoods ahead of them.  There will be decades when they can worry about whether they’re doing the right thing and saying the right thing and being the right thing to everyone in their lives.


Right now, there are too many other things our children should be doing.  They should be making messes and eating popsicles and catching lightning bugs.  They should be blowing bubbles and telling jokes and building forts.  They should be playing catch with their friends on Monday, board games with their parents on Tuesday, golf on Wednesday, basketball on Thursday, baseball on Friday, and guitar on Saturday.  Our children should be running and jumping and climbing and laughing and screwing up and starting over and stretching themselves.


There will be SO many things vying to be a priority in our children’s lives as they become adults.  Big things.  Hard things.  Things they have to think about every single day.  There will be family, relationship, health and work things.  There will be travel, illness, exercise, and sex things.  There will be illness, death, financial, and huge decision things. 


Yes.  There is absolutely a part of me that longs for each of my children to have a thing – a talent, a love, a sport or activity that draws them in and holds their interest in such a way that they can’t help but become great at it.  But when I look back at my own life and my own things, all of which lasted but a short season, I see the fault in pushing my kids to choose something specific to channel their energies into.  There will be plenty of pressure for them to manage in the future - they don't need it from Coach Mom right now. 


Hopefully, despite my insistence (or lack thereof) that there be a special “thing” in their lives, my children will eventually discover there is one thing that matters more than anything else.  It won’t be a sport they played in high school.  It won’t be a talent they’ve developed since toddlerhood.  It won’t be a shelf filled with awards and accomplishments.  


It will be a man, and a love so amazing that EVERY. OTHER. THING pales in comparison.  


And that one thing . . . that man called Jesus with the ever abundant love . . .


HE will be the thing that makes my children whole. 

Want To Be On ESPN?

Dear Son,

I’ve heard people say that life is a game and sometimes it seems like they’re right.  Sometimes it seems like they’re winning and you’re losing and nothing can turn the momentum for anything.  You practice and work and train and you just can’t seem to change the outcome.  The score still says you’re beat.

I don’t think life is a game.  Seems to me that word puts too trivial a meaning on a journey that could never be summed up in a highlight reel.

Still, you’re a ten-year-old boy.  You’ve had some sort of ball in your hand just about every day for a decade now.  You’ve watched endless hours of sports on television with your dad.  You’ve played baseball, lacrosse, and basketball on local park teams.  You’ve played soccer, tennis, football, and golf in the backyard.  You know what it’s like to win a game, and to lose one.  And so, I’m hoping this will mean something to you, my son, because that’s what I’m trying to do, after all.  I’m trying to make sure something . . . the right thing . . . means something to you.

Indulge me for just a moment, and let’s imagine that life is a game, and you’re playing it.  How will you make sure the outcome of the game is the one you want it to be?

Let’s start with the uniform.  Is it important?  Ask any boy who remembers the first time he put on a little league shirt with the name of his team sprawled boldly across the front – the pants with the coordinating pin stripe down the side, the matching socks, belt and hat.  Ask him what it feels like to stand in front of a mirror and know you belong. 

Yes.  The uniform is important.  It lets the crowd know what team you’ve pledged your membership to – for whom you have chosen to play.  It announces to anyone watching that you have aligned your goals with the will of a greater group.  Put on a uniform and you become united with others – your hearts and minds joined for a common purpose. 

What about the coach?  Does the coach have much of an impact on the outcome of a game when he’s not an active participant in the game?  He is responsible for choosing the players on his team, after all, or at least accepting those who willingly join it.  He evaluates their strengths and weaknesses, placing them as often as possible in positions that capitalize on their greatest gifts.  He teaches new skills and improves old ones, ridding players of bad habits detrimental to the collective cause.  He encourages patience, hard work, determination, good sportsmanship, loyalty.  He develops strategies, plans, and plays he believes will ensure victory, despite the fact that winning is never a guarantee.  

Yes.  The coach matters.  The coach is the leader of his team, and a leader always has influence.

How about the playbook - where does it fit in?  It certainly holds important information.  Much thought goes into its creation, and it is highly regarded as a tool for success.  The playbook is the culmination of hours, days, and weeks of principle, practice, preparation, and the plotting of ideas.  It is a design, a tactical map intended to lead a team to ultimate triumph.  Lose your playbook and you’ve lost a critical component for making decisions. 

Yes.  The playbook is a key piece of the puzzle.  It is a guide that encourages the best paths to take.

So maybe life is a lot like a game.  We are often on the quest for a goal, aren’t we?  We are always angling for position, striving for status, trying to reach the finish line.  We are always shooting for something. 

Son, one day you will have the opportunity to play this game of life on your own, without parents standing guard to steer your every decision.  You can play it any way you want – it is your game, YOUR life – and I can assure you there will be choices too numerous to name.  There are uniforms of every color and style.  There are thousands of teams with thousands of goals.  There are coaches galore and playbooks with proposals of all kinds.   You can pick any of them at any time, and every choice you make will have its own set of consequences.

My prayer, sweet Charlie, is that when it comes time for you to pick your uniform, you choose the only one that offers complete protection, because you will need it.  There is simply no way around the fact that you will be sacked in this game of life.  You will be pushed back and pushed down and pushed around.  You will fall and fail and flail, and You. Will. Be. Defeated.  Life is never a steady stream of successes.  Life is a journey filled with smiles and strikeouts, homeruns and hopelessness, goals and grief, touchdowns and tragedy.  Yes, there will be accomplishments.  Sometimes, you will win.  But there will also be setbacks and suffering and soul-splitting experiences that will make you feel as though you haven’t just lost the game . . . you’ve lost everything.

There is only one uniform that will protect you from the realities of life and its games, and that is the full armor of God.  Oh what a beautiful uniform it is – the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the shield of faith, the helmet of salvation, the sword of the Spirit.  You would look magnificent in that uniform, my son.  And when you wear it, IF you choose to wear it, everyone will know whose team you’re on.  Everyone will know you have chosen Jesus as your coach and the Bible as your playbook and the joy of victory FOREVER. 

You see, you will never lose the game when you choose the right uniform and the right team and the right coach and the right playbook.  You will always win . . . because God always wins.  

If you choose to spend your life playing for God, my son, your life will always be worthy of a highlight reel.  And your prize . . . your prize will be so much better than a medal or a trophy or a title. 

Your prize will be eternity.