Thankful & Grateful & Volleyball

In honor of November and Thanksgiving and family and everything Fall, my blog will continue, and I'll try to stay as thankful and positive as possible. No promises though.

The end of volleyball season is tough. In a few weeks, even our state champions will mourn it's over. They'll, of course, have their shiny, state rings, so there's that. My team, however, had no playoff appearance this year, but our record really isn't indicative of what we're capable of. All we can do now is prepare for next season.

I always meet with my girls one-on-one to discuss how they felt about the season, their goals for next season, how they will achieve those goals, and so on. I was especially proud of one young lady who rarely touched the court, but after a mid-season coming-to-Jesus talk, quickly became one of our most exciting players to watch. In our meeting last week, I reiterated how proud I was of how she ended her season, and we talked about how she overcame the doubts within concerning her abilities as a volleyball player. I reminded her God gives us all talents, but it's our responsibility to use those talents. And He's proud of her for using hers.

Near the end of the conversation, she thanked me for sticking with her and motivating her to be the best player she could be. But her next sentence stopped me in my tracks. She was worried I was so disappointed in our season that I might not come back and coach next year, and she would be devastated if that happened.

Wait, what? This girl is one of the most stoic people I've ever met, on and off the court. She has a great personality, but a hard exterior. She's guarded, and to be honest, I truly thought she could take me or leave me. And here she is boldly expressing her feelings toward me as her coach. Needless-to-say, the gates opened.

I've often doubted my profession. I've always dreamed of writing, but in that moment I heard my own words coming back to me. Maybe God did create me to write. Maybe that is one of my talents, but maybe he also wants me to coach. It's stressful, and it doesn't pay well, and a lot of people don't like you. After all, we'll never make everyone happy. We're only human. We will make mistakes, but for those kids who, maybe, just a little bit, learned from us, or felt loved by us, or found us as a motivating force, that's why we do it.

For the first time in a long time I felt at peace with my career.

Tonight I received a text from a student I taught in League City five years ago. She's a thriving student at Texas State, as well as a thriving political activist. We're on opposite ends of this Presidential race, but in the real world, people, that really doesn't matter. "When I'm a super successful lawyer, you'll be one of the first people I thank for helping all my dreams come true."

No, thank YOU for reminding me my dreams come true daily. I am blessed.

I Still Need My Mom

Two weeks ago I was drowning. We had sporting events to attend or coach nearly every night of the week, and my house was showing the neglect. Even our weekends were packed. Suddenly, I was in full-fledged panic mode.

Those closest to me know I thrive in an organized environment. When my house is in chaos, my life becomes chaos. I'm aware of this flaw in my personality; after all, I should be able to separate the two, right? But I was made this way, and years ago I accepted it as one of my unique qualities. Usually, I'm able to handle it all. Occasionally, it handles me.

So, two weeks ago I made an SOS call to my mom. I texted her so she wouldn't hear the desperation in my voice. The last thing I wanted was to disrupt any plans she might have in the Wonderful World of Retirement. Her response? "Call me." A mom knows, y'all.

The call was made on a Monday, and she was here by Wednesday. Before school was even dismissed, she had already washed the majority of our laundry and picked up much of the house. But it didn't end there. She cooked for us nightly, helped with the kids, attended our sporting events, and watched as Michael and I ran around hurriedly from one obligation to the other. There was very little time for visiting during the four days she was here.

And she never complained.

Two weeks ago I was drowning, and at 41-years-old, my mom saved me.

This post is dedicated to the beautiful lady sitting next to me, Carla "Grandma" Brookshire. And to all mothers. Your dedication and love for your families shines for all to see. May I be half the mother of the ones I so admire.

Love you all!

Purpose and Voice. Find Them.

I'm not in the mood to write (if you were at the volleyball game, you probably know why), but I'm doing it anyway. I'm also not going over my ten minutes. I took a sleeping pill (if you were at the volleyball game, you probably know why), and my hope is to be knocked out within the half hour. This could get interesting.

I've missed days in my #write31days challenge, and the urge to write gets stronger each day I neglect my task. I now have at least ten topics I'd love to write about, including my Women of Coaching series, but I'm so overwhelmed with ideas that it messes with me. I remember this feeling. And I know if I continue to avoid writing, the urges will continue. Or I'll find ways to dull the urges, and eventually give up. So, I'm not done.

It's extra important I write tonight. When we lose a volleyball match, it weighs heavily on me. When my children are being idiots, also something we've dealt with tonight, it weighs me down. When my Monday was a true Monday, and it somehow carried into Tuesday, my mind is heavy. When I'm putting on the pounds, I'm literally weighted down, and this one especially sucks.

Writing is my release.

I'm not great, but one of the best compliments I've received was from one of my volleyball players. She confided she enjoys reading my blogs because she can hear me in the words. Isn't that what all writer's want? Our voice coming through in a specific set of words. Anyone could have written those words, but she heard ME. We all want to be heard, and for some of us, written words are the avenue best suited.

A huge thanks to all of you who are continuously supporting and encouraging my writing. You make my days brighter.

By the way, I may or may not have gone over my minutes, but who's counting anyway?

See the Good, Be the Good

The Women of Coaching, Part 1

Throughout my career, I've been blessed to work with some amazing female coaches. Yes, I've worked with great coaches in general, but females in our profession are rare. It's especially tough to be a mom and a coach, but if the passion is within you and the calling is clear, you do it. Because without sports, there would be a void.

Shannon Lands came into my life in 2000, my first year of coaching, and to this day we stay in touch. Maybe it's only once a year at the Regional Golf Tournament, but each year we squeal like teenagers and hug as though it's been decades since our last encounter. Shannon mentored me in my first years in the profession, the hardest by far, and I'm forever indebted to her.

Shannon Massie came to Bonham a few years later, just as my other Shannon was leaving. Fate, no doubt. She was our head basketball coach, and I was one of her assistants. In high school, basketball was my LOVE. I was pretty good at it, too, but soon after college reality hit: I sucked as a basketball coach. I can teach any basketball skills a player needs, but when it comes to live action basketball play, I lose it. Shannon held my hand the entire year, and thankfully, that's the only year I've ever had to coach basketball.

Shannon and I were connected at the hip. Our families ate together often, our house, their house, favorite restaurants. We were even pregnant at the same time, due only a couple of months apart. I'll never forget the day Michael and I left Bonham. I cried a lot that day. We've drifted apart, a common theme in my life, as the coaching life is busy, but I have no doubt I could call her even now, and she'd be there for me.

Unless you've been in our shoes, you can't understand what it's like to be a female in this profession. The double standards? Too many to count. (Maybe a topic for another time.) But when you're lucky enough to not only have a great coach by your side, but also someone you call a friend, the job is a little easier. And definitely more fun!

See the Good, Be the Good

Be Unique

My oldest kid wears his shoes all day long. I mean ALL DAY LONG. As soon as he gets out of the shower at night, he puts on fresh socks and his shoes, even if bed time is only 10 minutes away. Only after he lays down, do the shoes go flying to the floor.

It drives me insane! Home is for relaxing, and how in the world can anyone relax with their shoes on? Fresh feet after after a nice, hot shower, and you want to taint them with shoes? My brain can't understand it. 

But a little girl approached me at school today and put everything in perspective. I have no idea if she wears shoes or not when she's home, but I do know her dad won't be there after school. She shared with me that the police came to his job and took him to jail again. I'm pretty sure at the age of six I had no idea what a jail was, and I definitely didn't worry about anyone I loved going there, or even going away, for that matter. Her sadness consumed the rest of my day. She's been on my mind constantly, and I pray her sadness goes away. Somehow.

There are bigger problems in this messy world than my kid wearing his shoes at abnormal times. And who's to say it's even weird! Maybe I'm the weird one for taking my shoes off the second I cross the threshold. And who cares anyway?! We're all unique with unique preferences, and that's what makes this messy world so beautiful and fun.

So the next time I'm stressing over something trivial, tell me to lighten up. I'm too old and life is too short to stress over the uniqueness of those around me just because I don't understand them. I'm sure there are a handful of attributes people don't understand about me, and I make no apologies for the person I am. I'm not perfect, but I will always stay true to who I am.

And so should my Austin. Wear those shoes anytime you want, sweet boy!

See the Good, Be the Good!

Mints

Isn't it crazy how one little thing can bring a rush of emotions and memories? That "thing" today was a pack of BreathSavers.

I walked into the Exxon fully prepared to pay for another pack of gum in the hopes of staying minty-fresh, but it suddenly struck me that I don't like chewing gum. It hurts my jaw, and after only five minutes, I'm ready to toss it. Today, however, I was struck by a novel idea: buy some mints. Genius! I need fresh breath, I hate gum, and here is an alternative.

I found the section of mints, and memories upon memories came rushing back. All it took was this little blue package:

My dad smoked for years (he quit cold turkey 30 or so years ago), and therefore, always carried BreathSavers to hide the smoker's breath (I assume.) We loved those mints, and he graciously shared with my sister, brother, and myself.

My parents divorced when I was in the 2nd grade, and after the divorce, my mom was given custody. She moved us three hours away, and I don't blame her for needing to be near her family and support system. Nevertheless, it was hard being suddenly so far away from my dad.

We visited him often, and this tiny pack of mints reminded me so much of the bright moments in a time that was probably otherwise dark (let's be honest...divorce is tough): the black Porshe, the Taco Bell in Temple, throwing up in Chuck E Cheese, walking to the store across 488 to rent movies and buy snacks, the 4-wheeler and mini-motorcycle, girlfriends, the Freestone County Fair, the mixed-tape, Swingin', Afrin, Hamburger Helper, the Ski tape, the golf cart, "Let her Frederick", Mr. Jack, Lucky, The Von Erichs, just to name a few. How did a tiny pack of mints bring out all of this?!

These words mean nothing to most of you, but to me they are my treasures, and I will forever hold them close. What items are nostalgic to you? I would sincerely love to hear your stories.

See the Good, Be the Good!

Parenting Advice Needed

I got played. By a 9 and 13-year-old. I'm sure it's not the first, and I know it won't be the last, but it's the first time I have overwhelming concrete evidence in my possession. What to do with this evidence is the question at hand.

The facts: Austin earned his phone back yesterday after a one-week hiatus for being irresponsible, both with his phone and his grades. This morning as we were getting ready for church, Austin sauntered by Addison and said, "You look hideous." You can imagine how crushing these words were to a 9-year-old. When we confronted Austin, he became belligerent and angry, even though he admitted to saying it. Needless-to-say, the phone became ours again.

Fast-forward to this afternoon. Addison brings me a note she wrote to Austin apologizing for being a tattle-tale, and asked if I thought she should give it to him. I agreed it was a nice gesture, but that he made bad choices after the fact, which is why his phone was taken. I then watched as she took him the note, apologized, and embraced him in an affectionate hug. I must be doing something right! My kids are the sweetest things ever!

Oh, but wait.

Addison later brings me a note asking if I will please give Austin his phone back. She felt really guilty for blowing up the situation in the first place. We decide he can have the phone back in exchange for some extra household chores, which he completes with delight.

All is right in the world. Lessons learned all over the freaking place!

And then my world came crashing down. As I was putting away laundry, I found this in Addison's room (Austin's handwriting):

Long story short, the entire ruse was planned and executed in minute detail. And I fell for it. I fell hard. What do I now do with the incriminating evidence? Do I confront the co-conspirators, do I save the evidence for later, or do I move on, using this as a learning experiencing? What did I learn? My kids are liars and extremely creative. They are also award-worthy actors. I honestly don't know if I should be mad or proud.

Advice welcome!

And now I'm going to watch the Presidential Debate and relish in the fact that my little, evil, creative geniuses are minor issues compared to the crap I'm about to watch.

See the Good, Be the Good!