We had six soccer games this weekend between the older two boys. It was a beautiful weekend to be outside and cheering them on, but we sure did get tired hauling 6 chairs to and from games. Chris had a really crazy busy weekend at work, so he was pretty much unavailable until the very last game. The little ones did amazingly well with it all. The games were fairly spread out over two days…so it really seemed like it was all. we. did. all weekend. But they were great little fans for their big brothers.
The boys both had very tough games with no wins all weekend (ouch). It was hard keeping them motivated. I felt badly for them as some of the games weren’t even close. I found myself weighing the benefits versus the drawbacks of competitive sports a few times, as I sat there and watched them get creamed helplessly from the sideline. After a particularly rough loss, I could tell Hunter was pretty deflated. He didn’t want to play the next game at all. I kind of wanted to throw in the towel a few times, myself, for their sake. It’s really hard to watch your children face defeat after defeat after defeat. But what message, I wondered, would I be sending if I allowed them to quit? At the same time, I wondered what all of this was doing to their self-esteem and their view of sports in general.
In our 5th game of the tournament, with what seemed like another sure loss in the making, I prayed for a little miracle. Not necessarily a win, but something. Anything to lift these boys spirits. To give them back a little bit of confidence. Well, the Lord heard this desperate mothers plea, and not thirty seconds after uttering it, my sweet 10-year-old son made a hard kick from the outside and scored a fantastic goal! I was overjoyed looking out at these kids and seeing smiles for the first time in a long while. Their spirits renewed. And mine too.