Real life lessons from London 2012

            In my enjoyment of the Olympics this past week and a half, I have realized that the Games really give us an interesting view of humanity.  There are moments of human nature at its best, and moments of human nature at its worst.  In the competitive atmosphere of the Games, we are able to get a glimpse of so many different personalities and so many different reactions to both victory and defeat.  

My children and I have rallied behind certain athletes and shared their excitement and their joy, or their disappointment and their struggle, depending on the outcome of their particular competitions.  Other athletes we have found harder to support and cheer on.   We have not rooted against anyone but, there have definitely been some we were not exactly hoping would win.  

            Here are our examples of humanity at its best— those few champions who have immediately given credit and glory to God, praising Him in interviews or falling to their knees in prayer or looking to the heavens in thanksgiving.  We love to see the athletes who pray the Sign of the Cross before competing.  We have seen winners in moments of immense joy and gratitude for all they have been able to accomplish and experience.  My children and I find ourselves smiling especially at the silver and bronze medalists who are genuinely happy with their not-quite-first-place finishes and we find we are genuinely happy for them too.  We have heard stories of amazing people overcoming adversity and stories of athletes who just wouldn’t give up.  We have heard about the support and sacrifice of loving and dedicated parents, coaches, even whole countries.  We have seen displays of authentic respect for the “losing competitors” from the “winners” and authentic joy for the winners from those they have defeated.  All this is beautiful.  It fills our hearts with hope and gives us examples of goodness in the world.   

            Here are our examples of humanity at its worst- athletes who refuse to hug or acknowledge the support of coaches or fans after not performing well.  Over-the-top displays of celebration and arrogance upon winning, which implies a lack of respect for those who are suffering the pain of defeat.  Winning athletes who focus entirely on how happy they are in interviews, acting as though it is all about them and ignoring the credit due to others who have helped them get to where they are.  And our absolute least favorite- silver and bronze medalists who refuse to show any happiness but instead pout or scowl in utter disappointment.   (There is one other thing on our list of least favorites-- women’s beach volleyball, where the competitors jump around in the sand barely dressed, but that we REFUSE to watch at my house.)

            Not surprisingly, the competitors we have cheered on most enthusiastically have been those who show true humility in the midst of fierce competition.  The people who have worked hard but who acknowledge that they have not achieved their success alone, are the ones we find ourselves rooting on.  The athletes who, in the competition itself or in interviews or post-race celebrations,  behave in arrogant, self-serving ways just cannot seem to win our affections. 

            The 2012 Olympic Games have certainly given my children and me a lot to think and talk about.   We have been given lessons in the beauty and importance of humility and the ugliness of pride and ingratitude.  We originally tuned in just for the fun and excitement of the once-every-four-years-competitions.  The lessons in integrity we’ve received were quite unexpected but they have certainly been very valuable.  

Only a few days left of the games now…….no doubt these last few days will find my family glued to the T.V. for every exciting and educational moment.

Oops!

            My children and I started attending Mass every First Friday at the start of our school year last August.  For nearly a year, we have been very good about getting ourselves up and ready and to the church every first Friday of the month, not missing even once.  We planned to keep up our devotion and continue attending every First Friday this year also…..

            Have I mentioned that this summer has been a little crazy?  Well, it is all my fault, but things have gotten even more disorganized and off kilter in our routine this past week.  You see, the children and I were greatly anticipating the Olympics.  During the last Olympics, we barely even noticed the Games were going on and certainly did not follow them very closely.  But this year, we looked forward to them for months.  We feel a sort of connection to them this year.  My parents have good friends from Great Britain whom we have come to know.  They have shared some of their English traditions and native foods with us.  We adore their accents and enjoy spending time with them.  Also, my son’s Boy Scout troop has a “brother troop” from England and every few years they take turns visiting each other.  This year it was my son’s troop’s turn to head across the ocean to jolly old England and the trip happened to be scheduled for this week!  So, though my son did not go along, quite a few of his friends are there in London right now!  We heard they even got tickets to an Olympic soccer game!  This, of course, makes the 2012 Games seem a little closer to home and a lot more exciting to us.   Couple all that with the fact that my middle daughter started taking gymnastics classes last Fall, and well… we knew we couldn’t miss a minute of the excitement.

            The older children and I have not missed a minute.  We have stayed up until midnight every night this week cheering on our American athletes and anxiously awaiting results of their competitions.  Last night, as my eyes were growing heavy in exhaustion, I said, “I don’t know if we’ll make it all the way to midnight again.”  But then we did.

            This morning, we were all moving a little slowly- the late nights of the past week are finally catching up with us.  I was sort of vaguely aware that it is Friday but did not realize it is First Friday until my son asked, at 10:43 if we would be attending Mass.  Mass starts at 11 (unless we are really on the ball and get up to go to the early Mass at 8 a.m.).  I looked around at my children- all dressed in t-shirts and shorts.  I looked at my own blue jeans and t-shirt.  I looked at the clock and calculated the time—could we all change our clothes, get our shoes on, get into the car and drive the 15 minutes to the only church with an 11 o’clock Mass in 17 minutes?  For a second I thought- we can do it, let’s hurry.  And then, I realized- we really couldn’t.   

            So, we missed it.  We missed First Friday Mass, for the first time in a year-- because of the Olympics and because I refuse to take my children into a church not dressed appropriately and mostly because I am so distracted and scatterbrained these days….

            I feel a little guilty but Tim reminded me recently that a wonderful holy priest once told him, God loves us just as much no matter what choices we make.  I am pretty sure that is true even when our choices are dictated by forgetfulness and distraction…

My son is better than your son

    When my oldest son was only about 11 months old he and I were invited to a play date at the house of a friend of mine who had a son of her own, just a few weeks younger than mine.  When we arrived there were three or four other moms there also, each with a child around the same age.  I remember clearly, watching all the other little ones sitting on the floor playing nicely while my son toddled in circles around them all.  One of the babies started to clap his hands and the others all joined in, all except my son who was too busy walking around the room to even notice.  I went home from that play date so worried.  My son had never clapped, he didn’t know how yet.  I didn’t think much about the fact that none of the other babies was walking yet but I agonized over my own son’s lack of clapping ability.  Now, all these years later it seems so silly, obviously my son was more focused on his gross motor skills to be bothered with something as trivial as clapping but at the time I really did worry.
    I should have known better than to compare my children to anyone else’s, or to each other for that matter.  But, I had already spent most of my life making comparisons so, it just came naturally to me.  I had spent my entire childhood comparing myself to my sister, who was just 18 months older than me.  I’m not sure anyone else compared us as much as I did but I grew up feeling constantly in her shadow.   My sister was always just a little older, just a little farther ahead, and always, at least in my mind, better than me.  It didn’t matter that I had a few really good friends, she always seemed to have more.  It didn’t matter that I did well in school and got good grades, teachers always seemed to like her better.  I had a way of focusing on my failures and her successes and feeling bad about myself in comparison.   Even in adulthood, I tend to compare myself to others.  I notice the success of my friends and neighbors and feel bad that I am not as good as they are.  I see other home schooling families and beat myself up for not being as organized as they are.  I hear about an acquaintance who ran a marathon and feel like my little two mile walk was practically worthless.  It seems whenever I compare myself to anyone else I always see myself lacking, yet I keep doing it over and over again.  It is so easy to see myself as inadequate next to my more successful, more accomplished friends. 
    My son, the late clapper, is now almost 9 years old.  He still prefers to be up and moving- climbing trees, riding his bike, or playing baseball rather than engaging in quiet, passive activities like practicing his handwriting or coloring in coloring books with his siblings.  Yet, he has learned to clap.  He also tests very well in all of his school subjects every year.   The point is, he is doing fine.  He is himself, not necessarily like all the other kids, but very successful in his own way.  It was useless and silly of me to compare him to others when he was a baby, just like it is when I compare myself to others.  God has not called me to run in any marathons, or to be perfectly organized.  If He had blessed me with the gift of athletic endurance or amazing organizational skills than I would be more successful in those areas.  Instead, He gave me my own gifts, talents, and strengths and it would do me a lot more good to focus on those than to worry about all that I have not accomplished in life.   In fact, if the only thing I ever do well in life is be a good wife to my husband and a good mother to my children than I will have served God in just the way He created and called me to.  And if I can serve God by using the gifts He has given me, I will be the very best at being me, which is all I should ever strive for.