Family Time

August 29, 2014

When my wife and I were raising two sons who participated in high school wrestling, we had two hopes before each large wrestling meet in which they participated. First, that they wouldn’t get hurt; and second, that they would win their last match of the day.

We didn’t care if that last match was for 7th, 5th, 3rd or 1st place. The ride home was just a lot brighter when the last match was a victory. We always struggled for the right words when the last match of the day was a loss.

So my wife and I found it especially interesting to read an article about Jeff Daniels published Aug. 7 in the Lansing State Journal that included this excerpt:

Daniels attributes some of his family’s closeness to life in Chelsea and traveling around Michigan to play hockey.

“I’m a big fan of soccer, however, we went hockey and never looked back,” he said. “Ben was 8, and Luke was 5 when they started in hockey in Ann Arbor. All those 5:45 a.m.’s on Yost Arena ice on Saturday and Sunday. All the way through the end of high school.

“I tell parents now, it’s not whether the kid excelled, it’s not, ‘Why didn’t you shoot instead of pass, ‘You’ve got to work on your slap shot.’ It’s not that,” he said.

“It’s the drive there and the drive back. And you talk about anything else except about the game. And we believe that the time we spent doing that, and not focusing on pounding your kid to be better at the next game when he’s 12 damn years old, is one reason we’re so close as a family when the kids are in their 20s.”

Fixing Things

October 6, 2011

Leaders of schools and school sports have rarely been asked to do more with less than is demanded of them today.  Their plight has brought back to my memory that many years ago, a pastor from North Carolina, Stephen M. Crotts, told this story – one that I’ve kept in my files, and in my heart, ever since.  He said:

I started my ministry in Charlotte County, Virginia.  And there was a deacon in the church there named Harvey Milton who ran a seed and feed store in Drakes Branch.  Harvey and his wife Margaret sort of adopted me and helped me along during those first tentative years of the ministry.

I remember one day after I’d been there nearly three years.  I was struggling with trying to do too much, trying to keep everybody happy, trying to fix all the hurts.

I stopped by to see Harvey at his business and found him hunched over the back door replacing a broken hinge.

“What are you doing?” I politely inquired.

“Well, Stephen,” Harvey intoned, “there are four kinds of broken things in this world.  There are those things that are broken that if you just leave them alone they’ll fix themselves.  Then there are those things that are broken that are none of my business.  It’s up to somebody else to fix it.  Then there are those things that are broken that only God can fix.  And finally, there are those things that are broken that can be fixed and it’s my job to do it.  And this door is one of them.  And that’s what I’m doing . . . fixing this door.”

Stephen finished by saying this:  “When urgent calls, opportunities, pressure, criticism and thoughts of all I could be doing come, those words help me sort my duty.”

Perhaps those words will help you too.