You are not defined by the wins or losses. You’re investing into young men. That’s kingdom work for a risen king who wore a crown of thorns. And that crown is infinitely more profound than any state title ring. THAT is the crown to be known and defined by.
Force the wheel of chaotic schedules and unending stress to halt. Whether you vacation away from town or have a small stay-cation, find a moment to let the world around you continue without your family needing to be involved.
Some of us are involved to extreme levels—doing team laundry, organizing fundraisers, or feeding the team every week. Others are content to be at games supporting the team and pitching in otherwise as needed. Neither way of doing it is right or wrong.
My goodness the magic of this month. The seasons starting to (finally) shift, sweater weather creeping in and, since I’m from Texas, the temperature outside is finally below the temperature of my pumpkin spice latte. Bring on fall!
Oh, and it’s Bandtober.
This month, a blur of activity and chaos swirls about our household. There is a football game each weekend and then mere hours before or after, there’s also a band competition—an event that typically runs 12-18 hours long dependent on our advancement during the contest.
There used to be a time where I would relish in dusting off of my knee high boots and finding a new fall lipstick color… add a pumpkin or two to my dining table and smell the sweetness of nutmeg and savor the thought. But Bandtober makes “wife-ing” a full contact sport—packing at least 3-4 meals weekly to be eaten on the road or perched curbside, and don’t even get me started on what juggling the man-cub and household chores turn into.
All I gotta say is: Thank You Curbside Pick Up Inventor.
The result of our choatic ballet is becoming a part of what I consider to be one of Texas’ greatest traditions. Regardless of where you’re from, I think we can all agree, there is an undeniable magic to Friday Night Lights.
It wasn’t until recently that I came to know not all teams have a band. For me at least, when I walk into the stadium, there’s just this amazing moment each game when the crowd roars alongside the cheerleaders chant in harmony underneath the glare of the stadium lights—and right alongside those groups, is where I live. When you hear that snare drum or tuba bass line and you unconsciously start dancing, that’s what fills my tank for the rest of the week.
It’s during those moments when all of these groups come together that make this life so wonderfully worth it. It takes everyone—the cheerleaders, the choir, the announcers and coaches, the football team and trainers, and yes, that marching band, to make a stadium more than just another stop on my map. It makes it home.
When you hear that mix of all those voices and music and heartbeats, it’s all of those beautiful groups coming together that give my heart strings the tug I seek.
Bless the hundreds of students and staff that congregate together to make all of those memories come to life. Every one of them has a different part to play, but every one of them has their school spirit in their hearts, and that’s where we unite together in our hard work and grit.
But for me, this month at least, I’m blessed to hear that very last note of the very last marching show for the year.
When you’re standing on the sidelines with tears falling knowing they gave it their all—it also means, I did too.
This month is all about getting to follow around my favorite musicians and watching them use their blessings. I think we find that with all of the sports sideline wives support. You cry at wins, at losses, and the progress in between. They are my kids—you want nothing but the highest honor bestowed on them. There is a peace in all of this chaos. Peace that God placed me here without explanation, but with purpose. I’m merely a supporting role in His perfection, but what a ride it is.
This month, if I may request, add me and my musical wives to your list of prayers we are all sharing. We are doing double time in a world where every beat counts.
Move over PSL …. Happy Bandtober!
We wanted an intentional way for our boys to process the experiences and emotions of the season rather than “just” having them turn in their equipment and move on to the next thing.
We don’t have TIME for this struggle, too. It’s so isolating. It’s hard to find time to talk to coach about it—our schedules rarely sync enough for more than goodnight hugs and kisses. In the isolation our worries grow bigger.
If you have a little extra time, write a little note and set it out with the special treat. It’s simple and sweet—something basic to surprise him and remind him that you care.
You, my husband, are what the world needs more of. A person who longs for the success of winning, but knows that life’s best and most important lessons are learned through the process.
This is one of those times when what’s going on at home can be prioritized over what’s going on at the field, even if it’s just for a few hours.
When the alarm system dings for the open door, I feel a breath of relief exhale. A helper and a second teammate has finally entered the game.
Then, he sits in his arm chair and before I can ask how his morning went or what they ate for lunch, snores resound from his side of the room.
We do all that we can to prepare, knowing that when the storm finally arrives, all bets are off.
I’m not minimizing the stressors of the coaching life. They are real and they can be unique and overwhelming. What I am saying is that pointing at coaching as the blanket scapegoat for everything challenging that happens during the season can put our hearts in a dangerous spot.
Two days a week when I kiss my husband good-bye in the morning, I say three words. In the midst of twins, backpacks, lunch boxes, school papers and jackets, I say these words. As he tries to go get out of the house on time directing my twin girls out the door, I say these words.
It’s so easy to sit and revisit every aspect of the game. If x, y, and z hadn’t happened, then a, b, or c could have happened. The fact is, though, it’s over.
After a year of heartbreak, I went into this season emotionally and physically drained. I was working full time and trying to expand our family and I had reached my limit. I had nothing to give to football season. I did not want to socialize or cheer; I didn’t want to answer questions about how we were doing because, honestly, it wasn’t good.
If you find yourself identifying with these thoughts, know that we are human and especially in sports we are taught accountability. But if holding ourselves accountable makes us lose perspective on the big picture, then we must refocus before the new season suddenly creeps up.
But, it seems as though once it’s over, we are missing something. The end of the season messes with my mo-jo.
The season ends and results are tallied. Maybe you have achieved your goals, maybe not. It is over, so now what? Were you who they expected you to be? Did you make yourself and others proud? The focus has already shifted toward the players for next season so did this one really matter? Yes, because YOU matter! You matter on and off the field.
Make a list of criteria a job needs to meet before you would consider it. This is a great help when the job market floods and you can quickly eliminate positions that do not fit your family’s goals rather than “wondering” about each option.
After two and a half hours of a screaming baby (who never fusses) and three other littles who weren’t following any instructions (because who wants to follow those once you are home from school), I needed a sub. I sent out my SOS text. It was met with a call.