To say I played baseball as a kid might be a slight exaggeration. It’s more accurate to say I kept the bench warm and wandered around the outfield, watching the game being played fifty feet in front of me. I can’t blame my coaches for not playing me more. I wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t great either. If the question was, “What can you do with the ball?”, my answer was always the same. “Not enough.”
It made sense to me…but it still hurt.
Athletes were our school heroes. I was chasing acceptance as much as I was chasing the ball. But my less than stellar efforts sealed my fate and secured my place outside of the inner circle and away from the cool lunch table. Still, for another shot at glory, I stuck with it. For five years straight, I kept showing up – hoping that someday I’d do something I’d never done before.
And one day, I did.
Can I be honest with you? The very last thing I want to do right now is write an inspirational post. I’m tired. I’ve been a little cranky and sad all day for no good reason. I’m behind on some work. My kids just asked me to take a walk with them and I said no…to come face this blank page I’m meant to fill with encouraging words I just don’t have today.
