There is a season

There is a season

Well, baseball season is over for the kids.  Each one lost a heart breaker in the playoffs by one run.  They both learned a lot and had so much fun they want to play again next year.  Mission accomplished!    [Brief aside – The kids on Connor’s team have been amazing.  Without prompting from their parents or coaches, as Connor improved they were extremely supportive.  During our last game while taking batting practice in the cage, several of the boys stopped warming up to come to watch Connor hit.  They were yelling, “Look, Connor is hitting!  Way to go Connor, you got this buddy!”  It was amazing].  One of the other coaches in Connor’s league called my coach and offered to have a practice game toward the end of the season.  Apparently my story (and Connor’s) has gotten around and everyone wanted Connor to get that hit and run the bases. So they offered to have the game and throw as many pitches as necessary for Connor to get his hit, then run the bases, and score.  I politely and appreciatively declined.

No criticism to all those wonderful internet videos of kids running for touchdowns, being carried around the bases, scoring baskets, etc. But when Connor does it, I want him to earn it.  That is the entire point of how I’m handling my disease.  You don’t take the easy way, you don’t learn as much, and you certainly don’t appreciate it as much.  Frankly, the easy way doesn’t teach you much.  There is a book I read as a child, Where the Red Fern Grows, which meant a lot to me.  In it a poor country boy saves his money and buys two coon dogs.  He promises the dogs that the first raccoon they tree, he’ll cut it down.  Of course it was the largest tree in the woods and he only had a hatchet.  His dad came to check on him the next morning and his hands were bloody. Did his father finish the job for him?  No. Was he told to just leave it alone and forget about it?  No.  His dad gave him a better axe and some gloves. 

His grandfather came by and saw what was going on and made the statement that will forever be with me.  “Every boy should have a big tree to cut down once in their lives.”  Young Billy could have given up, could have dismissed his promise…to a couple of dogs no less.  He could have gone in, had a hot meal, warm bed, etc.  But the book is about character, perseverance, love, generosity, honor, loyalty, and dedication.  In fact, I believe every father and son should read this book together to talk about all of those things above, the world might be a better place.  I almost wish we lived more in the country like where I grew up so Connor could do some real work.  Luckily (and I can hear their voices now) my cousins have some farm land and would love some free labor for a couple of months in the summer when he’s old enough.  I just may send him down.

My point, I suppose, is it wasn’t the hit itself that was the measure of success.  Connor getting a hit was not the ultimate accomplishment.  Connor working all season, trying, hoping, getting better, practicing, willing to work harder, etc.  The culmination of all his work was the event and the lesson. His tenacity and determination was the lesson. The journey is what makes you into who you are.  That is why I didn’t want to end it on a free “Make a wish” type play.  And I don’t think it is a bad thing that all those kids and teams do that for others.  I’m totally cool with it and think it is great.  But for Connor, we needed to grind through this together.  We did, and it meant so much more in my opinion.  That and challenges like it will prepare him for a real obstacle someday.  One in particular I pray he never faces.

Speaking of which, this was another rough week.  Goodness, that full bore chemo is some nasty stuff.  I am certainly glad I’m getting another week off.  The poison feeling was lingering.  The nausea and diarrhea were persistent.  The appetite was mostly gone again and I lost five pounds (don’t worry, I had them to lose). The mouth sores and metallic thrush-y feeling/taste were there.  My white blood cell counts were fine last time so there was no shot needed which meant no bone pain.  That was a plus.  I was a little more tired than normal, but by the end of the week the energy was back.  Just in time for the work needed to get done on Wednesday and Thursday.  We grind through and stay positive, good days eventually show up, and I certainly enjoy them more than I used to.

This was the last week of pre-kindergarten for Josephine.  We attended her Spring Sing concerts for the last time.  The teachers and administrators have been wonderful at Hope Children’s Center.  They have gone absolutely above and beyond for both of our children and our family.  They continually validate our choice of a faith based preschool curriculum.  One of Josie’s teachers gave me a very sweet compliment.  As we finished and took the last pictures with them she leaned over and said, “You are so strong.  I don’t know how you do it, but your kids come to school with a smile on their face and a great attitude every day.”  You really can’t ask for a better measure than that can you?  So we must be doing something right.

We really have been blessed with the choices we’ve made over the years.  Our friends, community, neighborhood, everyone.  It has been an absolute joy and a touching reminder of the impact we all have on each other.  I think we take our interactions with people for granted, but we shouldn’t.  I get a card from a church in Houston every week.  I don’t even know who the member is.  All I know is I get a card telling me that they pray for me every day, with about 10-15 families signatures.  And it comes every week like clockwork, and has since September.  They have never met me, nor I them, and it means a lot to me.  In fact, if you are reading this and you are responsible, thank you.  It helps more than you know. My father always taught me that charity combined with anonymity is the highest level of charity (stay tuned for a Christmas story in coming weeks).

I had a discussion with someone the other day and we were talking about an issue.  He said that it didn’t matter and I countered with “everything is a contest.  Everything we do is being watched by little eyes and is a lesson to them.  And it’s a lesson to adults if they are paying attention.  We are basically telling them what kind of person we are with every interaction.”  He didn’t agree, and frankly I didn’t care.  That’s the beauty of being an American.  You believe what you want, and I’ll do the same and raise my family accordingly.  No child was ever scolded for being too polite.

While we were getting ready for our vacation and putting away the baseball gear, Nita said, “I hope this comes out right, but I really hope you are able to coach baseball again next year.  You have no idea from the outside looking in how much all of you grew, and how much closer the kids grew to you this season. Your involvement, their excitement and obvious love of the game was palpable.”  It came out right.  I did love it.  I loved helping all the kids and starting the life lessons that will pay off 20 years from now.  I mean that, if they stick with it or continue to get coaches who believe that there is a purpose to the drills and the game, the lessons are there.  Knowing what to do (situational awareness), backing up the throw (anticipation/friendship/leadership), looking for your coaches instead of watching the ball (mentoring/looking for direction/knowing your role in chaos).  And the fact that being a good teammate is more than being the best player.  It’s all there if you know where to look.  I sincerely hope I am able to do it again.  In fact a few nights ago Josie asked if I would please coach her teams until she was in the major leagues.  I smiled and responded that I would coach her as long as I could still help her and was able. Remember this was the girl who wanted to quit baseball after two practices!  My princess is a baller.

So I hope my blog touches people, inspires them to do more with their families and friends.  To do more in their community.  To forgive and to ask forgiveness.  To want to inspire others.  To be better parents, coaches, students, teammates, teachers…all of it.  I hope my message gives hope to those who need it, and a challenge to those who will accept it.  We may not always know, realize, or understand the impact we have on others…so we might as well be the best we can be.  Just in case, you never know who is watching. I’m trying to help my kids understand the foundational building blocks of what it takes to be good contributing members of society.  Finally, how to earn the respect of others by virtue of their character and actions.  How do you want to be remembered?  TeamMarco@austin.rr.com.