Soccer Mom

When we first talked about adopting, a friend who had also adopted when her bio kids were a little older, was of course encouraging, but she also prompted me to consider carefully all the things that we would have to do again. “You've got to ask yourself, ‘Do I really want to go to all those soccer games again?’” she said.

Every Saturday morning when I’m at the soccer field, I remember that advice. When the weather is good and the kids are having a great time, it’s not too bad. But during the latter days of the season, when the weather is lousy and I’m tired of giving up my Saturday mornings, I remind myself that I chose this.

Both Lewi and Lily seem to enjoy soccer, which at their ages might be more important than having talent. Lewi is sporadic in his play, with moments that are inspired and others that are less than majestic, but Lily has settled into being a pretty good defensive player. She’s not fast and aggressive like the forwards, but she has a great kick, and she consistently moves smoothly into position between the ball and the net while keeping her eye on the play, trying to anticipate where the ball is going.

Over the years all of the kids have played in the rain (and even snow), but there is rain and there is rain. On this particular Saturday it had begun to rain, hard, before we woke, continuing cold and steady throughout the day. We were happy we had the early game, although when we arrived the field was completely soaked. Lily had dressed in layers, as did I, but I knew that was an exercise in futility. We were gonna get wet.

Some spectators set up chairs and huddled under blankets and enormous umbrellas right on the sidelines, but I’m more of a pacer, especially when it’s cold. The field is at the edge of the school’s playground, at the bottom of a little hill. Several of us have taken to setting up about midway up the incline, because it allows a better view of the whole field. Standing there, umbrella in one hand and rapidly cooling coffee in the other, I could see everything that was going on.

On rainy days, dads outnumber moms on the sidelines, and only die-hard grandparents show up (briefly, before remembering they have something really, really important to do).  I know some of the moms, but I didn’t see them that day, although with all of us bundled up like hikers on Everest, I’m not sure I could recognize anyone. It was too cold for chatting, anyway, so I focused on the game.

Lily played in goal for a quarter and as a midfielder in two. She didn’t have to move as much as some of the other girls, which was great, because it meant the team was playing well, but bad, because she was getting colder with every inactive minute. When she was bored she would look for me and wave. She had a couple of good saves and played her position well. By the third quarter it was obvious all the girls were sick of it but, soaked and cold and muddy, they played all four quarters to wind up exactly where they started: zero to zero.

Some days are like that. Sometimes even the things that should be fun and easy become hard work under adverse conditions, and in spite of your best efforts, you come away with nothing to show for it. And if you had seen it coming, you might have chosen a different path. But no game was ever won by second guessing. Better to slog on. Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass; it’s about learning to play in the rain.