Plank Removal

Ah, the angst of the soccer mom. 

Yesterday I was shushing one of my sons for making negative comments during his younger brother's soccer game.  I realized later (and, honestly, at the time) that I'd been launching grenades of my own.  And mine were more negative, more pointed, and much, much louder. 

"Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?"  --Matthew 7:3 

Match results:  

Not a win for the team.  

Not a win for the player. 

Not a win for the mom.

When my kids started playing sports many years ago, it was a struggle for me to learn the difference between cheering and yelling.  I did learn it, but sometimes I don't invite it to sit with me in the bleachers. 

This I know:  Yelling does many things.  It raises the blood pressure, bathes the system in a very unpleasant rush of adrenaline, strains the throat, stresses out the kid, blinds the eye, piles on the regret, and, worst of all, breaks places in my sweet child's heart.  But it rarely, if ever, leads to better performance. 

Cheering does many things, too.  It raises the spirits, bathes the system in belief, saves the voice, buoys the kid, notices the hidden victories, leaves no regret, and, most importantly, lets that precious boy know I've got his back no matter what. 

"Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen."  --Ephesians 4:29      

A year or so ago, I was sitting with a friend at a basketball game that the boys' team was in the process of losing badly.  She caught herself becoming discouraged and negative in her reactions to the game and, flicking her wrist in front of her face to brush the unwanted thoughts away, dropped this nugget of wisdom into my life:  "Oh well.  I don't want to care too much." 

What?  How could you care too much?  Isn't that our job as moms?  We care.  It's what we do. 

But she's right.  Caring too much is like too much of anything:  It morphs into the opposite of what it was intended to be.   

Too much sweetness turns the stomach. 

Too much cold burns. 

Too much care comes out like a blowtorch. 

I apologized to my soccer player after the game.  And because he has a sweet spirit, he forgave me immediately.  

I need to apologize to my older son for clobbering him with my plank as I was gouging the dust particle out of his eye.  I need to apologize to anyone sitting near me who was dragged under in my current.  I need this to not happen next time. 

Next time, I pray that what I've learned will sit with me on the sideline.  

I don't want to sit in silence, because I really do believe there is magic in the excitement of a noisy crowd.   

But next time, I will cheer. 

"Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need."  --Ephesians 4:16