My kids love softball and baseball, and we are now entering
the heart of those seasons. Seasons which often coincide with fishing and
spending time at the lake with family. We often have to choose one over the
other. But as I watched my 9-year old pitch in his first game the other day, it
struck me that baseball and softball are great sports and that many of the
things that make them great have commonalities with hunting and spending time
outdoors.
It seems to me that whether we are trolling along the shores
of Lake McConaughy or skirting the turkey woods or tossing a ball in the
backyard, we are ultimately spending time together. We are building
relationships. We are making memories. We are giving ourselves to each other
because that is what love asks of us.
I suppose I hunt because my father took the time to share
one of his passions with me. He sacrificed hunting his own game so he could teach
me to sit quietly, to see more clearly, and to listen with more focus. Believe
me, that took a great deal of patience and time and I never did get as good at
it as he was. Yet, he sacrificed his own success for the mere hope that I may
have some of my own simply because love asked that of him.
I continue to hunt and fish and the memories my parents gave
to me are as much a part of today as they were when we made them so long ago. I
am creating new memories with my children. Memories of watching a first turkey
strut toward our blind, of reeling in a late summer walleye, of just sitting
quietly in the hopes that a deer may venture into the open, or of teaching them
how to throw a ball better.
My kids love softball and baseball and because they do I now
love those sports more than I ever have. So during this season, I trade one memory
for another. It is a trade I gladly make because my kids want to experience the
things that make softball and baseball great sports. And I want to see them
experience those things.
Even if they do not realize it, they are learning many
similar lessons they learn in the outdoors. They learn it is okay to fail, and that
failure is a great teacher. They make mistakes. They see their teammates make
mistakes. They see coaches and umpires make mistakes. And then after those
mistakes, they see that the game goes on. They learn the importance of perseverance.
They learn that others rely on them.
They learn that they often need help. They learn there are rules, and, more importantly,
ethics that must be followed. They get to experience the satisfaction of a game
well played and the fruits of extra effort. Most of all, they develop
relationships, and I am honored to be a part of that.
My kids may not become professional ball players, or even
play beyond the next few years, but for this brief moment in their lives they get
to play the game with joy and passion. I pray they remember the beauty of it.
And later this summer, when we are fishing on the lake or
target shooting in preparation for fall, I will thank God for the children He
has entrusted me with. I will thank Him for the opportunity to sacrifice some
of the things I want for some of the things they want. And I will thank Him for
the greatest sacrifice of all.
Then I will try to teach my children to the best of my
ability because love asks at least that much of me.
