Running with the Pack

I am a soccer mom. I never intended to be a soccer mom. In all my dreams of a wonderful life with happy, clean, well behaved off spring, I do not remember wishing that I would be a soccer mom. I figured my perfect children would read a lot, play outside and always smile when they said, "yes, ma'am". This didn't happen, and the soccer thing did.

I am actually in child three soccer. The third time through I begin to be knowledgeable enough to know what is going on most of the time. I am very helpful to the refs now. I know they love to know I on the sidelines. They are so pleased to have a wonderful parent like me who is so willing to help them. I tell them all the calls they have missed or called incorrectly. I know they must be relieved.

What I have discovered most about being a soccer mom is that kids are pretty much the same. There are a few kids on almost every team who get it and play well. There are a few who have no idea and pay very little attention. Every once in a great while they luck into a play. And then there is the vast majority, they get it enough to enjoy themselves tremendously. They have flashes of brilliance and fits of incompetence, but for the most part play with joy filled mediocrity. And in all of those kids there is a spark of wonder and delight when they run up and down the field, hoping this is the set up for the winning shot. It's fun.

Parents are also very much the same. There are the overly involved who yell helpful information continuously whether their child is playing or not. This information includes such insights as: run and kick the ball and that's not your goal. Then there are the uninvolved parents. They sit on the sideline, reading or talking on the phone, look up from time to time squinting and ask someone, is my child playing? The rest enjoy the game with great gusto. They laugh when their child trips over the ball, and groan when the perfect shoot just misses the goal. They cheer loudly when their team scores and sometimes when the other team does too. They shout encouragement for every child on the team, though seldom match the right name to the right child.


As different as we all are, there is a common thread that runs through. There is a recognition in us for those we have met in some form or another along the way: those we feel close to quickly because they remind us of someone, those we don't like at all for the same reason. I don't know why this is true, as God is vast enough to create an infinite variation, but it is true. It seems to my small mind it must then be intentional. Perhaps that common thread is the fingerprint of God. Perhaps it's the presence of the Spirit, or the absence as the case may be. Perhaps it's some intangible that we can't identify, but our souls can.

No wonder some folks believe in reincarnation. I think that's very much like me and geometry, taking all the raw data and coming up with the wrong answer, but I do see how they got there. One day the raw data will add up to revelation. Hope its sometime this season.