"O, the Wild Rose Blooms," said the Soccer Ball

My thoughts often run much like the beginning of A Portrait of a Young Man as an Artist by James Joyce. Those thoughts are full of streams of consciouscness, jumping from one ponderance to the next - each being somehow related, and yet somewhat difficult to discern how so. Here is just half of the first page of that novel.

"Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and the moocow that was coming down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo...

His father told him that story: his father looked at him through a glass: he had a hairy face.

He was a baby tuckoo. The moocow came down the road where Betty Byrne lived. She sold lemon platt.

O, the wild rose blossoms
On the little green place.

He sang that song. That was his song.

O, the green wothe botheth.

When you wet the bed it is warm then it gets cold. His mother put on the oil sheet. That had the queer smell.

His mother had a nicer smell than his father...."

Now, with that introduction of streams of consciousness, you may just understand how this thought that I am about to explain came to me. You might also now better understand why I'm so difficult to understand sometimes - I may know how I got to my conclusion, but just might not be able to explain it!

Okay, then. The thought. It wasn't much of a thought, but I still decided to put pen to paper...well, so to speak as this is a blog.

I was walking around our backyard trying to find the sun (as the 15 degree wind chill feels much better in the sun than in the shade) and I saw our knee high soccer goals had moved around in our backyard. This took me back to a time...granted it didn't take me back very far in time...to when Luke began playing soccer.

He seemed so good at soccer in the backyard - especially kicking goals. Additionally, his natural athleticism is good. So, it baffled me for the 90% of the year why Luke only kicked the ball on place kicks during his soccer season. Just before the last game, I asked him, "You know that it's okay to run in and try to kick the ball, right?" He responded excitedly, "Yes, Daddy. Once you line up behind the ball, you kick it to the goal!"

All of the sudden, it was clear to me. Luke wasn't getting the ball because he thought he needed to line up and square to the ball to get a good shot at goal or good kick upfield. Well, the ball is essentially never at rest, and it is always surrounded by a hoard of other 4 year-olds.

After a quick mention that he just needed to try to get a foot on the ball, not square up, Luke proceeded, in the last game of the year mind you, to kick, dribble, etc. more than he had done the entire rest of the season combined. Of course, he didn't have the whole season to practice getting it there, shooting, etc. Therefore, he didn't score, but he made huge progress with some relatively small advice. (Incidentally, he did a great job at goalie every time he played that position, and he always ran a lot. So, this wasn't a statement that Luke had a bad season).

Okay now. We got from James Joyce to a cold day outside to knee high soccer goals to Luke's soccer learnings. Could all of these things have almost no relation to my final conclusion? Simply put, yes. They have almost no relation. So, I move onward toward that conclusion.

I spent the whole season not knowing how to address Luke's concerns - thinking he was scared of not being perfect, intimidated by bigger players on the other teams, etc. Had I just asked that same question ("You know that it's okay to run in and try to kick the ball, right?") after the first or second game of the season, he may have enjoyed his first year of soccer much more. Therefore, I realize that I am flawed. I do the wrong thing as a parent, co-worker, sunday school teacher, child of God, husband, etc. Plain and simple, I'll say it again: I am flawed.

So, alas, I must now draw to conclusion what this simple minute in my backyard showed me: Given the right circumstance, my being utterly flawed in practically every area of my life gives me a great ability to see what it takes to learn. How nice to have such a benefit out of my own flaws.

Let me give you a few examples. I can tell you that if your child isn't playing a sport the same way his or her teammates are, you should find the root difference (i.e. never getting near the ball when it is in play) and ask them if they know they can do it / why. Don't make assumptions on their behalf as mine would have been wrong. I'll also point out that you should do so an an inoffensive manner - which was key with my child.

When I teach Sunday School, I feel so utterly flawed in my Christian life that I can easily point out the traps, the pitfalls, the challenges that we face. And with that, we might even find a way to get around those pitfalls.

When I taught Spanish to High Schoolers, my base came from my own knowledge about why I wasn't able to converse in Spanish after High School. It was because I wasn't immersed in an all Spanish environment, and I didn't understand how or when to use verb tenses. Therefore, I focused on those areas for my students.

I could name others, but I'd rather just leave it at those few. Therefore, in conclusion, I am flawed, but I think God finds great ways to use those flaws so that I, and maybe others, can learn. How about you?