Not Just Another Pretty Face in the Stands

A in the paper a few weeks ago caught my eye - the football team had started two-a-days but some key players were still competing in the Little League Senior World Series. They were to choose between pre-season work-outs or wrapping up a championship season. They chose the latter and made it all the way to the in Bangor, Maine, before losing to Georgia - the same state that handed a loss in the Little League World Series finals in Pa. Tough decisions needed to be made all the way around. I have always believed that athletics gives you the groundwork to make big decisions and take responsibility at a young age. Even coaches continue to learn from their players.

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Funny how people and events touch you at times in which you need them the most? A phone call from a friend when you were feeling blue, a rebate check when you are faced with eating still, more beans and cornbread… For me, it was receiving a newsletter for coaches wives from the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. It spoke to me that day and has survived countless moves and has been copied numerous time for friends whom I believe also need a pick-me-up. I used to eagerly await the newsletter, which was delivered four times a year, but with the advent of technology, I needn’t wait as long. I recently subscribed to the Fellowship of Christian Athletes Daily Sports Devotional. Now, every day around 9 a.m., one is delivered to my inbox. It has been a great way to start my day and always addresses a need in my life. To subscribe, visit

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Let’s be honest: one of the best things about traveling out of town to tournaments and coaching school is shopping. Last weekend, my daughter and I were particularly excited to visit a store that sold purses I have been coveting for many months. They are way out of our budget, but I was determined to lay eyes on the bags I had studied in magazines and on-line the past year. Years ago, I would have avoided the store — I would have been too self-conscious to visit an establishment dressed in clothes more suitable for a weekend at the gym. But age does something to us: I walked in, explained to the sales associate my fascination with the bags and browsed the store, oohing and aahing along the way. She was at my shoulder the entire time and I saw her give another sales associate a look that I could not or cared to analyze, but I did not let that deter me from enjoying the exquisite collection. I had come too far. As coaches wives, we often let others affect how we enjoy the season. The beauty of watching your husband’s craft should give you joy. Don’t let others affect your view.

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I looked out the front window this evening right before closing the shades when I saw a dangling spider working furiously off the edge of our porch. I stepped outside to get a closer look and saw her bulging belly - how tired she must be carrying such a heavy load. But not once did she stop and complain. She just went up and down, back and forth in a smooth rhythm - with no encouragement, no assistance. It was just her against the world. I smiled at her and went inside and looked around at my four children. I am not facing a time crunch like the mama spider but I must not waste a moment preparing them for the world. I, too, was made for this job, and must not waste a minute.

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I met the most amazing man the other day at . As Gilbert Tuhabonye disappeared time and time again to retrieve running shoes for my four children (they long ago stopped picking out shoes to try on but now know that the running experts there will choose the shoes for them), we made small talk. As each child laced up pair after pair of Brooks, Asics, Saucony’s, Adidas, Fila’s, our conversation interrupted repeatedly to check for fit as he patiently bent down and felt their big toes and asked them to jog the length of the store so he could observe their stride. In the midst of the afternoon, Gilbert eventually shared that he had written a book, but when I asked what it was about, he brushed the burn marks on his arms and placed his fingers to his lips and said, “we will talk later.” We never returned to the topic again and he disappeared from the cash register before we could visit further. That evening at the hotel, I pulled out the complimentary hotel book listing local attractions in Austin trying to find something to do for four children ranging in ages from 10 to 17 years, when I found Gilbert’s face staring back at me. I couldn’t read the page fast enough. The quiet, unassuming man who so patiently helped us that afternoon, more than 10 years earlier had been buried under a pile of burning bodies for more than eight hours after the Hutus attacked his school and killed all the Tutsi children and teachers in the centuries-old battle between the two tribes. Gilbert was the only survivor who crawled out of that building using a femur bone to smash a window and begin his long run to freedom and life in the United States. I found the book the next morning at and have slowly and meticulously read every word. His story and his willingness to share such painful memories has already made a profound impact on my life. This book - “This Voice in My Heart - A Runner’s Memoir of Genocide, Faith, and Forgiveness” needs to be read, not just by runners, but to help us to learn how to survive and to forgive. I am forever moved and so grateful that Gilbert chose us that late afternoon in RunTex. I know God put Gilbert in my path that day, and I am forever grateful. The book is published by and is available for 13.95 in paperback and $23.95 in hard cover.

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Cutting our trip to Austin short today. On our agenda for Thursday was a return visit to the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center and our first trip to the Lyndon B. Johnson Presidential Library and Museum but when we heard late yesterday of Mrs. Johnson’s death, we decided to return home ahead of schedule. I admire very few women who live their lives in the public eye, but Mrs. Johnson was the exception. She used her position to beautify Texas and quietly place gladness in our hearts. Each time I pass a roadside spot dotted with Texas Bluebonnets or Indian Paintbrushes, I silently thank her for bringing such beauty into my life. My mother and I have taught my children the value of using native plants in our landscaping and the importance of beautifying a home with color. Mrs. Johnson helped extend the lesson that our home, our life extends past our yard into our neighbor’s yard and into the road beyond. Her impact is seen every day in many ways people may not immediately draw back to her. We should all learn a lesson from a quote she has placed on the wildflower center’s website:

“We are obligated to leave the country looking as good if not better than we found it.”

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Each fall, I gather seeds from my mother’s fantastic flower bed in the Dallas-area, but I often forget what I planted so I tend to take a wait-and-see attitude before weeding my garden. But as the latest blooms proliferated in four flower beds, I realized many of the lush plants were not flowers, but weeds. As I yanked them up and threw them aside, I thought, “How often do we give people a ‘grace period’ before pulling them up and ridding them from our lives? How much do they need to invade our lives before we cut them loose? How much water and fertilizer do we use on them before cutting them out of our lives before they choke out the good flowers or stunt our growth? Do we have a ‘wait-and-see’ attitude with people, just like we have with weeds?”I think we need to give each plant or each person a chance, but when they begin to harm and choke out your own  growth, you need to step back, re-evaluate and spend time on the important things in your life; your family, your faith and yourself.

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I just hung up the phone with one of our gym rats: every team has one. They are the athletes who can’t shoot enough, run enough, lift enough. Our conversation is usually the same: “Do you care if I come by and get the keys?” to which I respond, “No, not at all.” But this time I threw her for a loop. “Yes, I do care if you come by and get the keys.” There was uncomfortable silence on the other end: “I care because I want you to be bigger, faster and stronger by the time schools starts,” to which I heard her giggling over whatever song was blaring on the radio her red VW bug (oh, to be young again). I always knew my husband’s athletes worked hard, but I don’t think I ever let them know on a daily basis how much I appreciate what they gave to the sport. I think we all need the summers to re-evaulate, recharge our batteries and make new commitments to all the relationships in our lives whether it’s your players, your children, your husband or the UPS man (I hope he gets here soon). I always have said that “You get what you give.” Be blessed.

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I am a self-professed weather baby. The slightest hint of bad weather and I’m pulling kids from soccer fields, baseball fields, football fields, swimming pools, you name it. I have no less than three weather radios and scanners in addition to emergency alerts programmed to deliver up-to-the-minute reports on my wireless device so I can receive thunderstorm and tornado warnings and flash flood advisories. My favorite all-in-one weather radio is this one from  which also serves as a cell phone charger and can be hand-cranked if necessary. After the tornadoes skipped off to another county, and I put the L.L. Bean radio away for another day, I looked back on the day and remembered a brief noontime visit from a neighbor that notified me of another brewing storm that was forgotten during the hectic Texas afternoon. Our neighbor had appeared on our doorstep amidst the three barking dogs who think they live at our house, holding a simple blue 3×5 index card with six familiar names on it. They were the names of our neighbors who will weather on without their husband and father who left for Iraq earlier that day. Her request was simple: please pray for them. Sometimes the best and heartfelt alerts are those delivered face-to-face, hand-written and personal. I will remember her visit long after the countryside dries and the simple blue index card will not be deleted from my inbox like the many alerts I received today.

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