Competition brings out the best in us. And the worst. My children are not in a lot of organized sports for several reasons:
#1 We cannot afford it.
#2 Even if we could afford the money, we could not possibly justify the number of man hours it would take to chauffeur all the humans to the various practices and games/meets/tournaments and what-have-you.
#3 Organized sports have a way of elbowing their way to the front of the line and saying, "I'm more important than these other things," including (and especially) things spiritual.
So every fall and spring my children participate in a home school soccer weekly scrimage activity. It costs $5 per kid per season, but the gal in charge only lets me pay for the first 4 people (even though 7 play).
And they are in Awanas, which means that once a year they participate in the AWANA GAMES and in what Jonathan calls "Sparkie-A-rama". This year their respective teams had too many and too few players, so they wound up playing for another team - we singlehandedly shored up both of their teams with 3 players for each level.
The Sparks event was delightful. I smiled so much my face hurt. Jonathan is not quite old enough to even be in Sparks, but, as we said before it happened, he was born to do the sparky-crawl. The sparky-crawl is an event where 40 5-8 year olds in knee pads line up, 10 on each side of a square that is roughly 20 feet across, the horn is blown, and they crawl like mad to get all their players to the opposite side. You can imagine the pandemonium. They should but don't wear helmets. At any rate, as number 7 in our house, Jambo's whole life is one big sparky crawl - dodging other people, head down, just trying to get to the other side. It was awesome.
And after each event, win or lose, Jambo stood up, put his hands in the air, thumbs up, and acknowledged his adoring fans (remember, this is not our team, so no one knows him).
The final event in Sparkie-a-rama is a balloon relay. Ten children stand in a line and pass a balloon between all their legs and the final person sits on it and pops it. Jon was in balloon sitting position, even though he was the smallest. It took a while, and they were way in last place, but he didn't care. When he finally popped the balloon, his big brother picked him up and carried him around, Jon waving to the crowd. I laughed till I cried.
Then it was time for the TnT's. And that's where it got ugly. I have to say, I got to see my boys and girl shine. They ran fast. They won races. (we didn't think Ben could even make it around the circle without tripping, and he won the 'marathon'!) But the competition was fierce. And heartbreaking. And, believe it or not, parents get ugly, even at Awanagames. I genuinely was hoping for other children to fall down so mine would win. I was wishing for their demise. And the other parents felt the same way. I know, because when our team would default on a line rule, they booed and shook their cowbells. I was ashamed of my emotions. If I had kids in real sports, I'd probably be in jail right now.
I'm aware that there is value in those kinds of activities. I enjoyed seeing my children run (and crawl) with all their strength. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat. Going through the highs and lows of sports, movies, and life are part of what makes us humans, made in the image of God.
God is a Father, watching us, soaring with us, rooting for us, even participating with us, under the rules He ordained (specifically the one where He chose to give us free will). He waits on high to show us compassion. He desires to help us, to nurture us, to strengthen us, to do even the miraculous for us, but as I believe is the case in WWF wrestling, sometimes He is waiting for the tag. He is for us, who can be against us.
No comments:
Post a Comment