I haven’t written anything new in ages. Shortly after my last blog post, the school session began again for my daughter as she started middle school, my son went back to college, there were changes at my job, and life in general got crazy. Oh yeah, I also wrote a new book.
So what inspired me to get back into the cyber world? Was it to promote my book? Was it to compare stories with other mothers about the trials and tribulations of trying to help a child with math homework when the methods they teach now are nothing like what we ourselves learned (what the heck are alternative algorithms anyway??)?
Nope, I’m inspired to write again because of a football game. How I’d love to enthrall you with a tale of how our team pulled off a hail Mary in the last minute of the game, to score a win and advance to a championship game. But no, that wasn’t our team yesterday…that was the opponent’s story. Our team lost.
I love college football. LOVE it! And as much as I love to cheer for my team, I have never understood how some people act like winning is a matter of life or death. I still don’t get that. But I’m having a very hard time shaking the sadness at having witnessed our defeat yesterday.
For one thing, my son and his friend (who spent Thanksgiving with us) were watching it with me. I got to see how much the game meant to them. They actually KNOW many of those players, so the loss was not only a major letdown for themselves, but they could only try to imagine the disappointment their friends – the players – were feeling.
After the game ended, we headed out to see my ailing father. It was a somber mood at his house, too. We sat together and exchanged a few brief comments about the game. But we were all pretty much suffering in stunned silence, so the room got quiet pretty fast. But then we turned on ESPN and started watching the next matchup. Another team still had a shot at a national championship and was fighting for it with everything they had. The outcome no longer matters to me…my team lost the chance to go, so I don’t really care who wins.
But this morning I got up early to start working on month-end closing for the company I work for. And as I sat at my laptop, doing the final billing for the month, I noticed that outside the window birds were chirping. The sun was rising, and it had all the makings of a beautiful day. And my father has lived to see another Thanksgiving, which no one would have bet on a year ago.
Losing a ballgame is hard to take. Losing one that puts you in a position for your team to potentially make history is heartbreaking. But you know what? Life goes on. The world keeps turning. There are so many things to redirect your focus toward. And in focusing on those other things we can remind ourselves that games are, after all, just that – games. There will be another season.
And in the meanwhile, remember that miracles happen all around us every day. Not just on the gridiron. Don’t fail to recognize the miracles in your life, and to be thankful.