I might be alone in this situation, but I think not. You have an invitation that you are excited about and eagerly accept, then when the times comes to go, you'd rather stay home. Does that ring a bell? That was me on Thursday. Here's the tantalizing tale.
The track meet was going to be out of town. I'd love to go, but since I would get home late and don't like driving after dark, I decided another afternoon/evening at home was in order. Anyway, its always fun to hear the grand kids version of the meet after the fact.
On Monday my son dropped by to ask if I wanted to go to the meet with them. I jumped at the invitation. This was going to be fun and I looked forward to it all week. Well, Thursday finally came and Wednesday's beautiful weather had gone somewhere else. The day went like this: morning drizzle becoming showers by early afternoon, turning to a torrential downpour by late afternoon, with winds increasing by evening.
There was only an hour left before my ride was to arrive. I looked at the rain and I looked at my comfy couch. I looked at the black clouds and I looked at my unread newspaper. The idea of going to a track meet in this deluge when I could stay warm and dry at home really didn't make much sense at this point.
BUT, I had told my kids I was going. I had told my grand kids I was going. Now I was telling myself I really didn't want to go. Who wants to get cold, wet, and wind blown? Not I. Maybe they would call off the meet. No way would that be done; it doesn't happen in the Pacific Northwest. About the only reason to cancel a track event would be a tsunami or a volcano eruption. Neither of those was expected. The meet would take place with all the coaches, athletes, timers, starters, distance measurers, and school bus drivers in attendance. Thrown into the mix are always the volunteers at the snack bar and a few brave family members.
"I need to go." one part of me said.
"I want to stay home." another part said.
"I should go."
"I want to stay home."
The inner battle went on for several minutes before it changed to "I want to go. It will be an adventure to remember just like the meet with the hail storm was." So I went.
Did we find a parking place close to the field? Of course not. Was there covered seating? Of course not. Was there a restroom near by? Of course not, but there was a port-a-potty. Things were beginning to look up. Then we saw the covered area (tent) fairly close to the finish line. This might be OK after all. Ahh, the smell of coffee and barbecued hamburgers. This is going to be great. We joined the handful of spectators under the tent and settled in to watch the meet.
There were a few challenges to overcome though. Umbrellas. The field was lined with moms and dads, grandpa and grandmas standing shoulder to shoulder, or more correctly umbrella to umbrella. Some (umbrellas) were pretty, but all were impossible to see through. However, we are overcomers and managed to see the start, finish, and most handoffs of all the races. We cheered on the winners and the not-so-winners. We drank hot cocoa and ate hamburgers with all the trimmings. We visited with strangers who shared the shelter and talked with team members and coaches. We had fun. I had fun.
As I usually do, I looked for beauty in all of this. It was definitely there. In spite of the lack of sunshine, and the abundance of water, there was wonderful color every where I looked. Umbrellas--blue, black, red, green. Rain coats and hats--orange, pink, lime, purple. Blankets--school colors, Seahawk colors, Mariner colors. School buses--bright yellow, faded yellow. Hair matted to heads--pink, purple, red. There were faces flushed from running, shiny from the rain. It was a beautifully wonderful day.
And yes, I saw and heard lessons to be learned. It was obvious that some of the kids competing didn't want to be there. Some chose to not compete. Some kids recorded distances jumped or thrown much shorter than their abilities. Times in sprints, relays, and distance events were slower than their previous times. They were soaked, cold, and disgruntled "You can't expect good results in this weather!" That is what athletes, parents and coaches alike explained.
Then how do you explain this, many kids got PRs--personal records. I loved having kids come over to us with rain dripping from their hair, huge smiles on their faces, and exclaiming, "I beat my discus distance by 6 inches" or "I tripled jumped 1 foot further that I have ever jumped!" or "I took 2 seconds off my mile time!" They were soaked, cold, and excited. Wow, where was the miserable weather for them?
Here is the lesson for me. When things aren't going the way I want them to, or conditions are far less than ideal, I have choices to make.
The easy one is to do nothing at all.
The next one is to put in what I think is a good enough effort because I can't do well in this situation. At least I tried. I will do better when things get better.
OR, I can do my very best with the abilities I have in the situation I have. Like the triple and long jumpers, I might slip, slide, or roll in the sand, but only after I have had the best jump of my life.
I pray I learn this lesson well.
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