Most of my children’s lives I’ve been a sideline mom. The one cheering, carrying all the bags, packing snacks, shouting their names, video taping their accomplishments, and it’s been great!! I wouldn’t want any other seat. After 16 yrs of sideline watching – I want to play.
Recently we joined a rec center. The boys were required to take an orientation course before they were permitted to (indoor) rock climb. They’ve been to a place before, so it wasn’t a big deal to them. It was a very different experience for me.
I stood there looking up, and something inside of me …. was coming awake. Suddenly I wanted to try it. I wanted to be part of it. I wanted to be on that wall. I didn’t want to hold everyone’s stuff, I wanted to put down my stuff and try it.
Yet I quickly found myself talking my way out of those feelings of joining them. I can’t do a pull up. I’m 42. I have a fat bottom. I’m a mom. I’ve never done this before. I said all of those things – to the instructor!! She looked me in the eyes and sincerely said, “I think you can do it”. Next thing I knew I was stepping into a harness.
My youngest went up the wall first. Then my oldest. Once he unclipped he handed me the rope, and I laughed. I looked at the young girl belaying and realized everyone was serious. It was my turn. IT WAS MY TURN! I sobered up and needed to know, “can you hold me up there?” She reassured me she could hold 3x her weight. So I went. UP THE WALL!
I had no goal besides reach the next “rock” and maybe don’t fall off the wall squashing everyone underneath me. I reached for one rock then the next and the next stepping higher and higher. When I was well above my family’s heads I looked down between my feet to see them smiling and waving up at me. Which of course freaked me out being up so high. So I immediately came down. You’d think I won something I was smiling from ear to ear. I couldn’t stop laughing and giggling. I did it. I DID IT!
Sure – it wasn’t “pretty”. Nope – I didn’t make it to the top. But I got off the sideline and I did something for me. My boys were so proud because when my feet touched the ground they rushed me hugging, high-fiving, and giving me praise. They were so excited to cheer for me.
You couldn’t wipe the smile off my face all night long. Even the next morning as soon as I woke up I rolled over to Hubs smiled at his sleepy eyes and informed him, again, “I rock climbed yesterday.”
I was incredibly proud of myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve been proud of myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve accomplished something hard. It’s been awhile that I’ve been enjoying the sideline seats because … they’re easy. They’re comfortable.
The sideline seats do not require much besides … a bottom. The sideline seats do not break a sweat. It doesn’t know joy of hard work. It does not know satisfaction. It does not know what it’s like to be proud of oneself. It only knows wins and loss by association.
The sideline is safe. But the sideline doesn’t reward much besides maybe a “team mom” gift card at the end of the year. Don’t get me wrong – we need team moms. We love team moms. But don’t get so stuck on the sidelines that no one can pry you off to do something amazing for yourself.
Don’t get too comfortable being a spectator and miss out on a God-given talent that shouldn’t be buried! I don’t think rock climbing is my talent, but it brought such fulfillment that I floated around the house overjoyed. When is the last time you did something for yourself? When was the last time you were giddy with excitement? When was the last time you floated around proud of yourself?
Climb that wall. Sign up for that race. Grab your sled and head down the hill. Do the craft fair. Write the thing. Participate in life. Experience an adventure. Look at me, I think you can do it.
Roosevelt has a famous speech, The Man in the Arena. I’m sharing it with you and I pray it does something in your heart. I pray it awakens something you might have been holding back. Because I believe you can be a mom and in the arena as well !
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.”