One of the toughest parts of being a parent is being brave
when you know your kid is going through a hard time.
They say that everything happens for a reason. I say that’s
bullshit. You cannot convince me that babies die, people get cancer, people are
raped and nature destroys lives and it’s all for some “reason.” No. However, I
will argue that there is always something to be learned. Sometimes you learn
the depths of sorrow, sometimes you learn how to appreciate what you have, and
sometimes you learn grit.
This weekend the Moose broke another bone,which is turning into an unfortunate fall tradition. For a second year
in a row, he will not be able to play his all-time favorite sport – football.
It is what this kid lives for. And he’s good at it. It is genuinely fun to
watch him play and I would be lying if I didn’t admit that it feels really good
when you hear your kid’s name on the loudspeaker for making the play. My chest
swells. And now he gets to sit out another year.
God bless him. He doesn’t cry because of the pain but he
cries from disappointment. And my heart breaks. It really does. It is so hard
to be the cheerleader when you know he is hurting. It is hard to be brave and
encouraging when you want to be swallowed up with sorrow
for your kid. But being a parent does not give you the luxury of wallowing.
Being a parent means womaning up and pushing forward.
Quiver and cry as much as you want on the inside but it is game face on the
outside. I know vulnerability is the rage – and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be
vulnerable. But there are times you
simply have to be the rock. Later when the moment has calmed down, you can tell
them how you feel. They should know that you are scared and sad too. But in the
thick of it, be the parent.
At night, I went into the Moose’s room and laid down next to
him. In the dark, I felt tears on his cheeks. We talked. How it isn’t fair that
he is missing another year of football. But there’s something to be learned
from moments like these – it’s just that we can’t see it now. And he says, “I
get that. But Mom, this is the second time the same thing has happened. Why
would this happen twice if it’s because I’m supposed to learn something? I
learned it last year.”
It was a great question. I had to think about it for a bit.
Why would the same thing happen twice? Last year he was a total champ. He
didn’t complain. He was a leader on the sidelines. We got compliments about how
he was such a champion on the bench. Great. Way to go Moose! You rocked a crappy
moment. You are right – why the heck do you have to relive this again? It isn’t
fair. I agree.
So what is there to learn from the exact same lesson? I
whispered to him, “You were born for greatness. Your name means greatest. You
are going to change the world someday. You might cure cancer or teach inner
city kids. Who knows. But you will change the world. And that’s not going to be
easy. Over and over you are going to be met with resistance. You are going to
get knocked down. Because changing the world is important. And nothing
important is easy. Maybe you are learning how to deal with repeated
disappointment and how to keep going. Not playing football one year is one
thing. But having two seasons in a row on the bench is a whole other level of
disappointment. How you deal with it is how you will learn to deal with the
hard things in life.
You can sit there and feel terrible and wallow in it. And
you can do that today. But tomorrow morning we are not going to talk about how
you have to sit out another season. We are going to talk about what you can do.
You can lift weights. You can bike. You can work on your core. You can work on
your flexibility. You can use this moment to get stronger, physically and
mentally. You see there are two types of people. There are people that are
frozen when bad things happen to them. It’s all they can think about. And there
are people who get up the next day and say ‘what can I do’ instead of ‘look at
what I can’t do.’ You are always going to be moving. You may not be moving in the
same direction you started, you may have to juke and change up the plans. But
you are going to keep moving. Plan A didn’t pan out. You are going to kick the
shit out of Plan B. Because that’s the kind of people we are. And if you are
going to change the world, this is who you will have to be.”
I rubbed his head and crept out of his room. And I thanked
my stars that the worst thing that my son can fathom is being out a second
season of football. He has not imagined cancer, a death of a parent, losing
friends and family even though they are alive, or losing himself. So I honor
that this is the worst thing to happen to him and acknowledge that it will not
be the worst thing to happen to him.
And I thought, is there a lesson in this for me? I was crushed
he wouldn’t be able to play this year. And I have to remind myself that I’m
disappointed for him, not for me. That sports do not define him and his
performance is not my identity either. Sports are not the most important thing,
even if the 13-year-old boy believes it. And that I need to respect the
strength of his feelings. This is also a good reminder for me that we always
move forward, even if forward is in a different direction than we anticipated.
There are going to be other moments where I have to be brave and sensitive simultaneously
as a parent. This has given me good practice because I know this is minor for
what is yet to come. I would be kidding myself if I thought dealing with a
broken bone in 8th grade football is the worst of what I’ll see.
They say that grit is actually the characteristic that is
most predictive of success. The definition of grit is courage and resolve;
strength of character. You can’t have courage without having to experience fear
and challenge. You can’t have resolve without having to go through adversity.
How we handle life now gives us practice for when things get even harder. And
this is a lifelong practice. As much as it sucks, we all need to have
opportunities to be courageous and resilient. We can’t get better at it without
these experiences. It looks like the breakfast of champions isn’t Wheaties.
It’s grits.
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