Tonight was my seven-year old nephew’s last soccer game for the season. I won’t keep you in suspense; they lost. Badly. 6-0. The other team were veterans of the league, they had played together last year, they had ‘plays’. But before I digress into a rant about details that are beside the point, like the fact they had four coaches versus our one calling out plays and some of the kids looked to be on the brink of their 9th birthdays (it’s the Under8 division) okay, i’ve digressed. It was a very exciting game.
For an hour these fourteen kids raced up and down the field in the singular pursuit of getting the ball into the net. I don’t want to say my neph’s team is a rag-tag bunch but I’m compelled to say it. Obviously there’ll be varying degrees of talent and dexterity with the ball but there’s also a varied range of athleticism and passion. Some kids have the energy and the passion but they’re not built for speed and precision. Some kids have the skills but no competitive drive. But every kid on that team was having a good time and they’re hearts were 100% in it. They had some great plays and the goalkeeper made a couple of rock star saves (unfortunately he needed another half-dozen).
Now the other team was a whole different story. Every single one of them had a fire in their belly. They wanted this game. They wanted the ball, they wanted to score, they wanted to win.
When the game was over the teams congratulated each other and the parents folded up their camp chairs. My nephew beelined to us, dumped his knapsack and shouted back to us he was ‘going to take some shots’ as he zipped back to the field. His teammates were straggled across their end of the field shooting at the net and each other, some were swinging along the goalpost as if it were one long monkeybar. They were laughing and playing with zero evidence of the trauma the adults were clearly feeling. The victors meanwhile were seated around their four coaches having a post game de- briefing. One of the parents remarked that kind of thoroughness is what made those kids winners. I looked over at my nephew laughing his face off with his friends. During the game he was focused and driven. His speed is legendary and he ran miles in that hour, but in this moment right now he was just a seven-year old playing with his friends. Sure he was bummed about losing and he’d be a little mopey on the drive home but in this ‘now’ life was good.
That little post game moment was perfectly symbolic to me of the grieving process. Sometimes it’s necessary to review so we can learn but sometimes you just need to move on into the next moment. Despite best efforts there will be some rough patches but then there will be spots of joy. Whatever the moment you just have to be in it and honor it. They are forever changing, honor each one.
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