When Bowling is More than a Game

I attended the Special Olympics to watch two young women compete in the bowling tournament. I had a great time and would go as far as saying that the experience was quite enlightening to me. From the moment I walked in the door I knew it was going to be a great day. Everyone was excited. Participants were waving and talking to their peers and to people that they had never met—like me. Volunteers were helping with everything from tying shoes to pushing wheelchair bound participants to their lanes.
After the opening ceremony, the participants roared and clapped with excitement. The games had officially begun. I watched as many lanes as I could see and observed the dynamics surrounding each team assigned to those lanes. I think the greatest thing that I saw was that in this setting, they all felt empowered, important, and that they were a part of a special group. They weren’t a group of people who were being looked at for what they couldn’t do, we had gathered to see a group of people compete in a bowling tournament. Today, they were the majority…I was the minority. As I looked down at the lanes I noticed that they were using different techniques to get the ball down the lane. Some were using arrows etched in the flooring as a guide to hit the pin they were trying to knock down, others squatted down and released the ball, there were those who seemed to have a natural flow—they just let the ball go and it glided down the lane to the intended destination, a lot of the bowlers spread their legs and used both hands to roll the ball down the lane, and there were a few, especially those using crutches, walkers, or wheelchairs, who used a special assistive device that allowed them to prop the ball up, line the apparatus up with the pins and push the ball with little or no difficulty. The lesson here is simple. There are many ways to reach your goal. If one doesn’t work, try another.
It seemed that each bowler understood the rules of the game and showed respect for their peers by waiting patiently for them to release their ball before releasing their own. Wait your turn. It’s a basic rule, but sometimes we seem to forget it. I also noticed that the players seemed to be genuinely interested in helping each other. Although it was a competition, they were rooting for one another. They cheered every strike, high fived when an opponent picked up a spare, and patted those on the back who couldn’t seem to keep the ball from going into the gutter. They recognized that even in a competition it’s important to be a good sport. I believe those pats on the back and words of encouragement helped ease the frustrations of a lot of players out there. It was great to see someone who wasn’t doing as well as the others finally bowl a strike and return to a bunch of high fives, applause, and thumbs up. I saw quite a few bowlers today that were either bowling for years or born with a special talent for knockin’ em down. It seemed that almost every ball that they sent down the lane had a magnetic attraction to those pins. But notice that I said “almost every ball.” That’s because every once in a while they’d do the improbable—roll a ball straight down the gutter or barely knock over one pin. Great players throw gutter balls too. Everyone makes mistakes, and there is always room for improvement. Although we should strive for perfection, we have to recognize progress.
At the end of the competition, each bowler made their way to a special seating area that had been set up to celebrate both individual and team success. They were so proud to be seated in the special section. They knew that it was an honor to be honored. All too often we wait for the “ultimate” accomplishment before we celebrate ourselves or tell others how proud we are of them. Unfortunately, we miss the obvious opportunities to tell people how important they are, how much they mean to us, and how their life is making a difference in ours. But I digress…there was a podium equipped with first, second, and third place blocks. There were bunches of balloons and most importantly, there were ribbons with varying colors signifying first through fourth place. I watched a young man jump out of his seat and run to the podium to accept his ribbon. The crowd cheered, his parents shouted his name and his smile extended the entire width of his face. He had trouble standing still because he was so excited. He couldn’t believe that he had taken fourth place. For him, he had achieved something beyond what he thought possible. Today I learned that sometimes fourth place means just as much as first place.
I was famished and the smell of fries and pizza had finally got the best of me. So before leaving, I decided to take on the snack bar. I ordered a hot dog (thinking “what could possibly go wrong with a simple hot dog”)and a soda. As I took the first bite of the hot dog, I looked up to see a woman walk by wearing a t-shirt that said “Label jars, not people.” I smiled and she waved. I took a sip of soda and reluctantly bit another piece of my hot dog as I thought to myself “even the Special Olympics can’t make the food at the bowling alley taste any better.

Labor of Love

There’s only one profession where you can be both teacher and student, the judge and the jury, landlord and housekeeper, chef and waiter, detective and private investigator, coach, referee and cheerleader, bodyguard and prison guard, doctor and emergency room nurse, personal shopper and fashion critic, chauffeur and driving instructor, and financial advisor as well as collection agent. The duties and titles for this profession are used interchangeably, and quite often, simultaneously. Although this profession does not offer a salary, it can be quite rewarding. It’s a profession that requires nearly two decades of internship, but results in no formal certification or degree. Ideally, this profession involves a lifelong co-worker to assist with the responsibilities attached to success in the role. The profession is Parenting. The job title is either Mother or Father depending on ones gender. I am proud to be a Mother.

This role is not one to be taken lightly. The responsibilities are far too great. From the moment I heard my eldest son’s first cry, I knew that the magnitude of the journey ahead was far greater than I had imagined. This innocent child who reluctantly entered our world had no choice but to go home with me. He was defenseless, needy, helpless, and vulnerable. It was up to us—his parents, to give him what he needed in order to survive, and later, thrive. The position that I applied for and accepted is “Mother.” Of all the positions that I have had over the years, “Mother” is the title that I am most proud to hold.

You see, it’s so much more than having a baby. It doesn’t take much to do that. It’s raising a child in a safe environment, nurturing, teaching, caring, sharing, loving, sacrificing and being selfless. It’s tough love, long hugs, long talks, and discipline. It’s setting expectations and providing encouragement. It’s believing in their dreams and lending support. It’s offering a shoulder to cry on or being someone to cry with. It’s earning respect and ensuring that it’s given for a lifetime, and giving respect when it is due. Ah, the thrill of Motherhood! It’s challenging and complex and at times, it’s simple and uncomplicated. It requires that we give without expecting any personal reward. We give, expecting that our children will get more, be more, and do more as a result of what we gave…or gave up.

As a young woman awaiting the birth of my firstborn, I thought labor was the most difficult part of the experience. I was wrong. It was only preparation for the task ahead. It was preparation for the sleepless nights I spent worrying if he was still breathing and the soft bounces as I rest his head against my shoulder to comfort him while teething. It was the excitement of his first steps and the fear I felt when he had his first fall. It's the frustration of potty training and the aggravation of cleaning the floor around the toilet when he missed the big hole in the center. I can't forget about the anticipation on his first day of school and the stress of his first day as a latch key kid. It's the pride associated with admission into all honors courses as a freshman in high school, and the difficulty in knowing when to push harder and expect more, or when to accept that what they've done is their best. It's the fear in trusting that you have instilled enough to get them through their first crush and their first rejection, as well as their first test of peer pressure...knowing one decision could change their lives forever. The list goes on and on, but I wouldn't trade the job for anything. It's hard work, but it's a labor of love.

Today is the day that my oldest son was born. I'd like to think that in working to ensure that he grows up to be a great man, I too have become a better woman. I'm proud to be his mother, and I couldn't ask for a better son.