Last night began my favorite season of the year - football season!
People have often asked me, which team is my favorite. The answer is very simple - whichever team my son is playing on. I am a football mom! (I say this with great pride!)
Before EVERY game you will find me making my way into the stands to get the best vantage point to see the game. You won't realize it, but I'm also praying....Please God, let them have a good game. Keep them safe. Use this game to develop them into the leaders you want them to be.
As soon as the first kickoff occurs, I'm no longer SITTING in the stands; I'm standing and yelling at the top of my lungs. BLOCK! HIT HIM! DON'T LET HIM GET PAST! RUN! RUN! RUN! Those around me probably wonder who this crazy woman is. Those who sit really close get to hear even more! They get to hear me lean over to my husband and ask, "Was that a good play?" or "Did Levi do something good just then?" and of course the inevitable, "Why did they just throw a flag?" You see, I really don't understand the game. All I know is that is my tiny baby boy out there and I plan to cheer till the final whistle...or horn...or whatever it is they use to end the game.
Of course, I cannot do ANY of these things when my son is close enough to hear. He would be mortified! As long as he can see me, I have to act cool. That does not stop me, however, from making a fool of myself when he is on the field and out of earshot.
I don't just cheer for my son, though. I also yell and cheer and jump up and down for the other players on his team...because for a time at least, they belong to me, too! They are ALL my boys! I love to see them play and succeed. With every play, I cheer. I turn around and encourage everyone else in the stand to join in!
All too soon the game is over and the crazy cheering mom disappears only to be replaced by an even stranger lady...the one who starts asking my son, "Did you hurt that boy you hit? Are you sure he's okay?" I become the mom who looks over at the losing team and worries about those boys. My heart absolutely breaks for them as they walk off the field with their helmets hanging limply from their hands. I want to go over and hug them all and tell them life goes on, that they played a great game, and that I'm really proud of them too. I want to look into the eyes of those who didn't get to play and reassure them that their day will come. For a moment, they all become my tiny baby boys and I want to make it all okay.
Of course, I can't. To begin with, it would embarrass my son! But honestly, I can't even make it all okay for him...all I can do is cheer like a crazy woman while he is on the field and make sure he has a cold drink and sometimes a needed ice pack when he comes off.
I'm not sure what the connection might be in all this. Maybe I am a little crazy when it comes to kids. Maybe those around me are laughing at me (instead of with me.) Maybe my son will grow up and tell his friends about his nutty mom. Or maybe, just maybe, there's a little crazy in all of us....most people are just afraid to let it out.
Either way, I'll be in the stands again next week, praying before the game, yelling all the way through it, and worrying after it's all done. Care to join me?
Colossians 3:23 Jubilee Bible 2000 (JUB)
And whatever ye do, do it heartily, as to the Lord, and not unto men,
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