Let us be open, not overbearing. Let us be eager, not ego-filled. Let us be quiet, not condemning. Let us be close, not close-minded. Let us be ourselves.
Let us be the very best part of being coaches’ wives—by being a part of a community, not a clique.
I didn’t know Coach’s role would change unexpectedly and shake up our lives drastically. But some of you had experienced that before.
I didn’t know that we would watch each sport shut down, one-by-one. But even when the stadiums emptied, there you were.
Some lost seasons. Some lost jobs. Many wrestled with their mental health and moves and the new normal. But we didn’t face these things alone. But we figured it out together.
As another season is upon us, many couples are working out their roles in a new staff or, like us, have experienced a change in family dynamic (thank God our babies were actually born in the off-season).
To the head coaches and their wives: I beg of you to consider your staff. Each member.
“I don’t want you to help me! NO! NO! Don’t touch it!” she screamed as she aggressively jammed the “outie” part of the zipper against the “innie” part of the zipper over and over and over again to no avail.
“Charlee, we have to go. Let’s make a good choice. Would you rather get frustrated and cry or just ask Mommy for help?”
No response as she repeatedly attempted to “DO IT ALL BY MYSEE–EE–LLLL–FF!”
Five minutes later I gathered her limp body off of the living room floor, exhausted from the sobs and the tireless slamming of the jacket against the wall. She had clearly chosen to “get frustrated and cry” as opposed to the alternative, “ask for help.”
Sadly, she gets this from her mother.
I recalled a few months earlier when I had also had my very own “zipper moment.” I had been checking my watch every 38 seconds to see if Clark’s practice was over yet only to realize he wouldn’t be home for 4 hours and 38, no, 37 minutes. Will we all still be alive by then? I could make no such promise. Hattie was 5-months-old and Charlee was 22-months-old and I was done. Mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually DONE.
Charlee was in her room throwing a fit while I sat on the foot of the guest bed holding the littlest one. She was crying, yet again. I was bouncing up and down like a rabbit on 5-Hour-Energy, trying breathlessly to control my aggression, hoping not to approach the threshold for Shaken Baby Syndrome. As I bounced, I remember audibly repeating, “Please. Stop. Crying. Please. Stop. Crying.” Maybe one out of the three of us would listen.
Then my phone rang. It was Clark.
“Hey Babe, I’m gonna be late today.”
I couldn’t get a word out of my throat. I felt a huge knot form and before I could stop he could hear the sobs from the other end of the line. “O…. kay….”
“Has it been a bad day?”
Um. No. It’s been fan-freakin-tastic. Can you hear the two of them? They’re screaming because we’re all having so much fun playing Candy Land and creating educational crafts.
“Call your mom. Tell her to come over. She would love to help you.”
“O… kay…”
“No seriously. Call her. I’ll leave as soon as I can.”
“O… kay… Bye.”
Ten minutes later my phone rang. This time it was my mom.
“Hey, how ya doing? Clark called and said you might want some help. I’m on my way over right now.”
My husband knows me way too well. He knows my independent, I-CAN-DO-IT-ALL-BY-MYSELF heart would never surrender and actually ask for help. I don’t need help. I am perfectly capable of handling this motherhood thing on my own, thank you very much. I got myself into this gig and I can get myself through it with my teeth gritted and my fists clenched.
I knew my resistance had a lot more to do with pride than I cared to admit. God began to show me that asking for help isn’t a show of weakness but in fact the ultimate sign of strength and humility, the admission that I am not God and I was not created to do this alone.
It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to admit that today has sucked. Hard. It’s okay to need a second to come up for air every now and then. And it’s even okay to call your mom to rescue you… when you’re a grown woman.
In Exodus 17, Moses has just brought the Israelites out of Egypt. But while traveling they are attacked by the Amalekites and forced into battle. Moses, in his old age, heads to the top of the hill with Aaron and Hur while Joshua chooses the strongest men to go down to the battlefield.
Moses raises his staff as his men fight in an appeal to God for help and enablement. “As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning” (Ex. 17:11). Moses is old and tired. An entire battle is a long time to keep your hands raised up in the air. Thankfully, he has help. Verse 12 says, “When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up — one on one side, one on the other — so that his hands remained steady till sunset.”
I also feel old and tired most days. I also feel like there is a battle raging under my roof most days. And I also, like Moses, can see a difference in the outcome of my battle when I hold up my hands in surrender, in an admission that I can’t do this on my own. Sadly, my arms get tired pretty quickly.
God knew they would. He didn’t create me or Moses or you to hold up our hands on our own. He never expected us to fight our battles in isolation.
But I am not Moses. And I lack the humility to admit that I need someone else to bring me a rock to sit on or someone to prop up my hands. So I just watch my army go down in flames because I am too prideful to admit that I need reinforcements.
I need encouragement.
I need validation.
I need coffee.
I need help.
I have plenty of Aarons and Hurs that are willing to prop up my hands and pull up a rock. And so do you.
It’s just a matter of asking.
I found myself counting their blessings rather than my own. The sour attitude I had was causing a ripple effect throughout all parts of my life.
Do you find yourself lonely, even in the midst of busy stadiums and gymnasiums? Do you know too much about school politics? Do you sit on the visitors’ side instead of the home stands? Do you wonder what a parent’s motivation might be when they initiate friendship?
My Dad sacrificed time with his own children to help raise others, but what I hope he knows is that I and my sister were watching and learning how important it is to love those around you and show that love through action.
Thank you for your support. In the midst of a lot of unknowns, you were there! You offered great advice and answered every question. Trust me, I had a lot of them. Your unwavering support to welcome and assist my family in this new time was a blessing.
So, chuck those expectations
A coach’s wife she has no mold
Just love that man and love those kids
Love Jesus and grow old.
Live in your unique freedom
To survive this crazy life
Feel free to break the mold my friend
You are a coach’s wife.
These are the things that define a true tribe. Just because we haven’t had the chance to take that perfect picture of us sitting together in the stands in awhile, doesn’t make us any less of a tribe.
These are the things that define a true tribe. Just because we haven’t had the chance to take that perfect picture of us sitting together in the stands in awhile, doesn’t make us any less of a tribe.
So, to the new wife who’s learning to cope, to the one trying to dye her socks pink, to the one bleaching her pink socks white, and to the new mom with a 6-day-old determining if she should go to the game … I’m right here with you. Reach out; make the connection; I’ll accept you just as you are, as God tells us to. No judgment, no make-up either – because girl, I ain’t got time for that.
For those of you who didn’t take this approach, you understand just how important other coaches' wives are, not only to your survival, but also to your flourishing.
For those of you who maybe are doing what I did, I hope you realize you’re making the sacrifices whether you admit it or not. There is no need to deny yourself this one aspect of the lifestyle that could actually fill you up.
Choose the tribe member you know will help you see the bigger picture, not the one ready to pile on more muck. While a mud bath can be a good thing for your pores in the short term, it does very little other than make you stink if it stays on too long.
Near or far, a coaches’ wives tribe is one of the most amazing parts of this crazy coaching life. I’m so thankful friendship is not defined by distance. This life has connected me with some of the most inspiring, talented, and thoughtful women in my circles of influence, and I know my life is better for knowing all of these amazing ladies.
