Scuffs on our Helmets

One of the crazy, yet very cool changes to football season this year is the addition of my nephew Landon to the River Valley Junior Falcon’s Mighty Mite team. This change is crazy because every Saturday my family and I will spend at least 10 hours at the football field for the next few months.

I still can’t get over how cute these 5-6 year olds look in their football gear. The pads in their pants seem to go past their knees and they look like a bunch of hyped up “little people” running back and forth aimlessly.

The past few weeks I have been able to catch a few of their practices before running over to watch Nick practice. See…crazy!

This week as Landon’s team was finishing up for the night in their team huddle, his coach was giving them a pep talk in regards to how hard they’d been working. He had the boys look at their helmets. He said that when they were issued their helmets, they were brand new, straight out of the packaging. They were shiny and bright…flawless. And now each one of them had colored markings…scuffs on them bearing the colors of the paint from their opponents’ helmets which means that they are all playing really hard.

As they were walking away towards their parents, the coach yelled out a “Brooks! Come here!” So I ran out on the field as fast as I could…just kidding.

Landon turned back around to meet his coach, who asked him to remove his helmet. He spoke to Landon individually and proceeded to show Landon the scuffs on his helmet. As Landon walked back over to meet his mom and dad he was proudly wearing a grin, stretching from ear to ear.

I sat there and watched my adorable little nephew as he showed his daddy the marks of accomplishment from his hard work as a football player…

Prior to practice the following night, my brother stopped by to pick up Landon. He walked through the door, frustrated and stressed not only because he was running late, but because as he drove to the house there was an indication that the transmission was going out on his truck. I believe his words were either, “I don’t know what else could possibly go wrong for me right now.” or “If one more thing could possibly go wrong in my life I just might lose it.” And as he loaded up the boys for practice his assumption proved correct as he had no reverse gear and the transmission was gone.

After they left, I looked at my dad and said, “You know…I think Satan is knocking at my little brother’s door.”

My brother is one of the hardest, if not THE hardest working person I know. Not only is he a physical laborer, but he labors long. He has a full time job and when he’s not working for a salary, he’s working to help someone in need for no other reason than to help. His work ethics far exceed the norm. And somehow he manages to take what little time he has to be an amazing father to his kids. I hated seeing him frustrated, stressed, and feeling like his world was crashing down around him.

Then I began to think about Landon’s coach the night before and his speech to the kids. How true that message is for all of us.

We’re all football players in the grand scheme of things, with one Head Coach. When we are born again, we are given a brand new helmet (life) straight out of the package…flawless. As we tackle every one of life’s obstacles, our helmets get scuffed in the struggle to conquer them. Because our helmets are on…we can’t see the progress of our hard work and struggles. And often times we feel that instead of a gain in yardage we’re getting pushed back and about to lose possession of the ball…

These are the moments when we need to listen to our Coach as he asks us to remove our helmets and take a good long look at the scuffs. One of my biggest and darkest scuffs is single parenting. Yet when God asks me to focus on that scuff, I see my struggles reflected in a beautiful 13 year old boy. Happy, sensitive, encouraging, and carrying a faith in God himself. I am reminded that Scripture tells me that in this life there will be struggles, but because of Jesus there are no struggles that can not be overcome.

This past weekend I was able to sit down with my parents and watch a movie called “Letters to God.” It is based on the true story of this incredibly strong 8 year old boy and his struggle with cancer. During the movie there is a scene involving a non-Christian man who is searching to find his way in life and sits down to have a conversation with his boss. It was a divine appointment as they conversed on a bench outside of church. In tears, the man explained how everything he cared about was slipping through his fingers. His boss told him to place his hands together and interlock them. He placed his hands on his employee’s hands and said something to the effect of, “When your hands are like this…nothing can slip through them.”

I pray for those who feel as though they have no where to turn in the difficult times. For those who don’t have a relationship with their Coach.

I look forward to the final buzzer of the game. When I can take off my helmet for the last time and not have to worry about ever putting it back on again. But until then, I will embrace the struggles and wear the scuffs with pride, knowing that they all have great meaning and purpose. And I want to play the game well…

Knowing When

The beginning of last week began my son’s persistent demands to have me take him back to the doctor to get a release form for his strained ACL. Tuesday marked the second week of recovery, and the doctor originally advised he stay off of it for three weeks. Nick…was determined to convince me that it was healed.

I waited until the latter part of the week, spoke to his coach, and decided to take him for his word, that it indeed was healed and that I would take him in on Friday to have the doctor look at it again.

My concession didn’t come easily and after the news of 3rd baseman for the Atlanta Braves Chipper Jones collapsing on the field mid-week from a torn ACL, I began to wonder if this would indeed be the wisest thing to do.

I’m not entirely sure that the doctor was easily convinced either as he spoke to Nick in the exam room. The middle aged man asked Nick to promise him that if at any time it began to flare up again, he would back off of practice and give it more time to heal. Nick nodded his head as if to understand in compliance with “Doctor’s orders.”

The good news is his first day back at practice is today. One day shy of the three week mark. I’m trusting Nick is familiar enough with his body that he knows when it’s back to normal…and that he’s not merely saying it’s better because he’s itching to get back on the field.

Sadly, one of his team’s strongest players collapsed on the field this past Saturday with an ankle injury. Apparently this is a recurring injury that requires him to wear an ankle brace; however he failed to wear it which may result in having to sit out for a bit as well.

All too often we spend our lives rushing into things with the hope of satisfaction of some sort. Typically, when we rush, whatever satisfaction we acquire tends to be “short term.” And because we rush…we risk the possibility of becoming disappointed and often times, wounded.

Something looks or sounds good and we dash to grasp. We rush towards it with tunnel vision and don’t heed to the warning signs, telling us to stop, yield, slow, or even turn around. Seldom do we seek the advice of others because the last thing we want to do is entertain the idea that someone else may see the bigger picture of potential disaster.

As I heard the words “I’m ready” come out of my son’s mouth last week, my stomach turned with doubt and concern. I cringe at the thought that he may face the possibility of further injury.

Sometimes I find myself telling God those very same words. “I’m ready,” I say as I proceed without waiting for God to respond. Failing to realize that even when I can’t hear Him speak, He’s preparing the way for me and if I simply wait for Him, He will make my way perfect.

Ecclesiastes 3:11 says, “He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” My timing isn’t His, and trying to make everything beautiful on my own only destroys the beauty He’s preparing. And knowing that I can’t fathom what He’s already done and continues to do should be more than enough of a reason to sit in peace…

And so I begin this week in prayer, praying that Nick knows when he's strong enough to push forward and when to heed to the instruction to ease up when he's hurting. And I also pray for my own discernment, that I know when to wait on God's timing and not my own...

Life Lesson Through a Strained ACL

I cannot believe that it’s August already…

August marks the start of football season, and this year has proven to be pretty eventful so far…


Practice started the last week of July, which just so happened to be the time I set aside for a “last hoorah” trip. Destination Los Angeles.

Nick began his first week of football with what they dub “hell week.” My son has made it an annual tradition NOT to prepare for intense drilling and once again found himself getting sick in the middle of night number one. His response to me that first night was, “I just wasn’t ready for it.” Hmmm….

Night number two brought him home limping and complaining of a sore ankle.

As I watched him walk to the car after night number three I noticed that he wasn’t drenched in sweat. When I questioned it, he confessed that he sat out of practice because of his ankle and was told to put ice on it.

Night number four marked the first day of my vacation and the evening before Nick’s started. After a phone call before bed he confessed that he sat out once again and his coach advised that he go in to see a doctor.

As Nick arrived in Orange County that Friday morning, I watched him limp towards me like an 80 year old man with a prosthetic leg. He had been living on Aleve and I decided that we should make a quick stop at a drug store to pick up some Ben Gay or Icy Hot to help the muscles.

I honestly felt bad for him as I watched him painfully walk around the entire weekend. He didn’t complain much, but I could tell he was hurting.

Upon our return home last Monday, I took him in to Urgent Care before practice to have a doctor tell me what we’d already diagnosed it to be.

A strained ACL.

No football practice for 3-4 weeks.

As we drove home I could sense the disappointment in my son’s being. He has come to terms with the fact that this year will be the last year that he will play football because he knows the intensity of the sport, what is required to perform at his best, and he has somewhat acknowledged that there are some things that he knows he simply cannot do…

Sitting in the doctor’s office, I had asked Nick if the ankle he strained was the leg that he has problems with and he said yes. I then explained to the doctor that Nick had been diagnosed with cerebral palsy a few years ago and the only thing that was affected from this disease was his leg…could it be that the lack of “working” nerves in his leg resulted in the strained ankle? His response was…absolutely. He continued to stress the importance of exercising that ankle and leg to build up extra strength, which ironically was the advice given by his doctor at the Shriner’s hospital.

So back in the car, I put on the “stern parent hat” and explained to Nick how important it is to listen to the advice that a doctor gives him. Saying you understand and are going to work on it is very different than actually doing it. With tears building up in his eyes on the verge of pouring out, he quietly said, “I knew you were going to think this was my fault.”

One of the greatest difficulties for me as a single parent is trying to find that balance between the roles of mom and dad. Sadly, I believe I find myself telling my son to “buck up” more often than wrapping my arms around him and telling him it’s all going to be ok… My prayer is that one day he’ll fully understand the things that are truly important to me in regards to raising him. To love him the best way that I know how, and to help him become a man of strength, courage, and integrity. To build him up and encourage him along the way. To teach him the importance of morals and the things he should value.

I felt as though I let him down on our drive home that day from the doctor…

It makes me wonder how God does it with us…finds that balance between the stern discipline and wrapping his arms around us in comfort, to let us know that it’s all going to be ok. How He hurts more than anything when we’re hurting and yet will continue to discipline us as needed. How He must rejoice when we fully understand the depth of His love, mercy and grace.

And for a moment I was the 13 year old in the car, seated next to Jesus in the driver’s seat. Tears swelling up in my eyes as I felt the blame placed upon me… All of the advice I have never heeded to. The endless number of times I felt things never went my way. And He looked at me with piercing, compassionate eyes. “It’s not your fault… I have done what I’ve done because I love you…and I have greater things in store for you than you could ever possibly imagine. It’s not your time now, but it’s coming. And all the pain, heartache, and disappointment will blossom into life’s greatest blessings for you. I promise.”

Life is full of all kinds of lessons, and thanks to God for allowing them to shine through in my life...