5/03/2008

Take A Moment

A few weeks ago, my 16-year-old son, my youngest child, quit running track. On the surface it seems pretty innocuous, just another decision in an active life. Sure, track was a long shot, an attempt to scratch an athletic itch after a promising baseball “career” was abruptly ended because of three elbow surgeries. And his decision to walk away from running and concentrate on his music was mature and absolutely right. Regardless of all the sane logic attached, I had a surprisingly concrete, physical reaction when the decision was made. Maybe it was a sense of loss—after more than twenty years of sports activities with my kids, it was no more. Combine that with the complicated ache of unsatisfied athletic potential in my youngest child, and “loss” doesn’t feel like a stretch.

He is such a good athlete and he faced so many obstacles, almost as if athletic success was working against him. He fought a good fight—we all did—but the reality is he’s done. The loss (or sadness or whatever it should be labelled) is just another moment to deal with. Life is crammed with them, wall-to-wall. Some are big—not too many, I hope—but most are small. I would categorize this one as medium. String all those moments together and you have your life. This might be a right-brained characteristic, but I am conscious of the moments. I can’t be certain but I don’t think everyone senses the small moments; they only see the medium or bigger. They may notice the gaps created by the small moments, the empty spots on the string between the noticeable ones, but what causes those gaps escapes them. I don’t see gaps. I feel most of the moments, if not all. The way a book feels in my hand or the power of a quality pen dragging across paper. The first sizzle and smell as the bleu cheese burger hits the grill. The first sip of wine and the unexpected chord in a song. Lots of little, small moments.

I’ll get over this particular moment, this sports moment, because my son has plenty more to provide. But I won’t rush the recovery. The ache is a reminder of an eventful, memorable past as well as that another corner has been turned. Besides, even the painful moments are worth remembering.

2 comments:

mycotn said...

Thanks, Jay.

Jason Brookins said...

The track team's loss is the Wednesday worship team's gain.

Just another perspective on the cosmic balance sheet.