football

Wilson played his last football game tonight.We made the playoffs and then lost.For 10 years we have watched him on the field ,10 years he and Worth have suited up together and hit the field,laughing,working,pushing each other.And then all of sudden its over. As we watched him struggling to leave the field,my heart gave way and I couldn't watch. Such a simple thing and yet right before my eyes,his life was changing. What will he go do with his life? What will he become? What will he think of his high school years when he looks back? How has this game of football shaped him and made him much of what he is today..

Helicopter Parents

I hear alot these days about "helicopter parents". These are parents that college admissions personnel say hover too closely,get too involved,stay too close. I surely don't want to be called that when my two pack their bags,load up the Jeep and head to new where abouts unknown at this time. But I do wonder..Who does the college call if he is very sick in the infirmary.Who do the police call when he has had the accident we have feared he would someday have.Who do they call when he is ask to make the big speech because he is an outstanding student.Who gets the call.Me and his dad. The two people who pay the bills,cheer him on,encourage him when he feels at a loss and push him on when he wants to give up. We get the call.Be it noon or midnight,we are the ones expected to show up,pick up the pieces or bring the camera for the picture of a lifetime.We are the ones.We have been hovering over this"project" for eighteen years.As he broke his nose, his scapula,two fingers,and his hand along with two concussions playing football,we have stood by with our hearts in our hands.As we bounced back and forth,fearing our backs would go out as he learned how to drive,and laughed until tears came late at night in our bed,flipping a coin to see who would drive with him the next day,we were there.I could go on but you get the point.When the time comes,you'll need to just give us some time.Its hard to stop hovering when you have done it for eighteen years...

Teenagers

Working with teenagers has been my life work.I am not sure I ever chose it but somehow it chose me.I have been a youth worker in a large church,a camp director for teens,a counselor,a teacher,a friend.I now live with two.Their friends invade our home and refrigerator,our conversations and mealtimes.A mixture of laughter and pointed conversations fills our home on many nights.They sing Christmas songs in my truck,throw football gear in the back,leave half-empty Gatoraids rolling around on the floor.And each time they depart,I can hear their voices rolling round and round in my home or truck. I wonder at times what they will become,what they will do in life. Will they remember our home,the food,the kitchen table?Will they remember what we tried to impart when they stayed in our home? Will they catch what my husband and I are trying to throw their way while they throw the football back and forth?Or is it enough to give safe harbor some nights in a world where many teens have no place to tie up their boat for the night...