Over the last few years, my seventeen-year-old son Jed has become invested in international football, aka soccer. When I say invested, I mean Jed learns all the things about the players and teams. He’s known everything about the NBA since he was about five years old, so this is not a new process for him. His favorite team is the Tottenham Spurs from England. He’s drawn our family into the team’s activity too. The other day, we were watching a match downstairs while Jed was watching upstairs. There was a slight delay so when the team scored a goal, we would hear Jed’s excited reaction a couple of seconds later. I enjoyed those few seconds of anticipation waiting to hear him yell, “GOAL.” At the end of the game, the announcer said that the Spurs had played with “verve and vivacity.” I thought that description was magnificent and asked Jed about it. He told me the announcer was Peter Drury, and with reverence said, “he’s a poet.” 

Verve is defined as great energy and enthusiasm, and vivacity is defined as the quality of being vivacious, which means attractively energetic and enthusiastic. (dictionary.cambridge.org). I knew that soccer fans around the world were rabid for their teams and that they cheered and chanted for the course of entire games. But I’d recently witnessed a bit of the verve and vivacity of the international football community up close. We were at Disney World where people from all over the world come for entertainment. Jed wore soccer jerseys on several days. I witnessed Jed and fellow fans nod in acknowledgement as they passed by one another. They would say, “I like your jersey” on other occasions. While we waited for the Tower of Terror ride, Jed had an in-depth conversation with a Londoner about the teams in the league. I hadn’t expected to see the camaraderie between fans when they were not at games but based merely on the jerseys they wore. They were connected even though they didn’t know each another. I especially hadn’t anticipated the sheer number of soccer fans that Jed would encounter.

Energy and enthusiasm. What if we tried to create communities based on those tenants? Or inject those qualities into organizations to which we already belong? Sometimes members of our groups become overburdened or overwhelmed. The issues seem too large or complicated and frustration sets in. Some may feel burned out and ready to give up. That’s when others must step up and bring energy and enthusiasm to support those who are struggling. To give the encouraging nod. To say, “I see you and believe in you.” To remind them we are connected and when one of us is down, the other will step up to fill in the gaps. To cheer up the team when they feel like there is no chance of winning. 

When one of those in our community is having a hard time, we can step into help them. Embracing energy and enthusiasm can strengthen our connections, so that we can build up the members of our communities when they are in need. And know that they will do the same for us when we need a boost of verve and vivacity.

My son Alex and I entered Walgreens just as a mom and her daughter exited. The girl was about four or five years old, with long brown hair, and she trailed behind her mom several steps. “Pick up the pace,” her mom called. At that moment, I passed by the girl and smiled down at her. She looked up at me, and grinned, twinkle in her eyes. The mischievous look on her face told me that she had no plans to speed up at all. 

I sympathized with the mom because I have a child who moves slowly as well. We must harass him to get in the car to go places. We have to persuade him to get out of the car in a timely manner when we arrive back home, even when it’s hot outside. I’m not sure my son drags his feet on purpose most of the time. He is naturally more laid back than the rest of us. That’s just how he is. But that girl – she gave off the vibe that she knew exactly what she was doing. It was her choice. I’m sure that can be aggravating for her parents at times, but I admired her boldness. In that split second, I thought, “You be you, little sister.” 

The world will try to change her. To make her pick up the pace in every single way. Participate in more activities, then specialize in one so that you can be the best. Make straight A’s, so you can get into a great college and find a fantastic job. Work harder. Be better. Faster and faster so you can do it all. And when you’re an adult, you’ll feel overwhelmed, stressed and like you’re spinning out of control a lot of the time. 

I worry I haven’t done enough to protect my own children from the rat race because I also want them to do well. Trying to strike a balance between achievement and having a life that feels authentic and true is not always easy. I worry especially about the mixed messages my daughter may have received just by soaking in the culture. In the Barbie movie, America Ferrara gives an impassioned speech about the nearly impossible difficulties of being a modern woman, and both times I saw the movie, women cheered out loud in response. They felt heard and seen maybe for the first time. 

I’m not sure what we can do to make life easier for the younger generations. Except to tell them they are worthy and important no matter what they do. That performance is not the source of our pride. To encourage them to embrace effort and be responsible, so that they can build confidence and be proud of themselves. Urging them to love themselves as much as we love them. And maybe to help them understand that picking up the pace is not always the answer. Sometimes rest and self-care are what they need. To balance work and play better than we’ve done as a society until now. 

And when someone tells them to pick up the pace when they get older, they get to decide whether that is the correct choice for them in that moment just like that spirited little girl.  

Due to unforeseen circumstances, we had to switch the location of our church youth group’s Back to School Bash from the church property to our house. Because we intended to include games of water balloons and shaving cream, which of course ultimately turned into a free for all, we had to clean up the backyard before the chaos began. I swept the back patio and picked up the errant odds and ends scattered around the area. I thought that perhaps the students might end up in our playset’s fort as part of the games, so I climbed the ladder with my broom and swept out the leaves and debris from the fort. 

None of us had been up in the fort in a long time. We’ve had the playset with slide and swings for at least fifteen years, but now that the kids are older, the playset doesn’t get much use. When I got up on the ladder, I realized the playset is not in the best shape anymore. The wood is extremely dry. I’m not sure any amount of stain could revive the poor wood. The wooden beams that hold the monkey bars are warped. The bolts in several places looked like they were on their way to rusting. I couldn’t see all the wear and tear from the ground level. The view from the top was not good.

Even though my kids haven’t used it as much as they did when they were little, the playset has been sacred to me. We’ve never discussed taking it down because in my mind, it is a tribute to the kids’ childhoods. And somewhere in the back of my head, I thought maybe their children would use the playset in the future. But I don’t know that the playset will make it until we have grandbabies big enough to use it since we are still years away from that reality. For the first time, I reconsidered my stance on the playset. Should we take it down?

I admit that my heart ached a little at the prospect. I worried that the actual removal would make me sad, so I haven’t discussed it with Ben or the kids yet. But seeing the playset from a different perspective made me rethink my strong conviction that the playset should never be removed. 

Sometimes we face a new way of viewing things or find new information that makes us question things we thought were not up for debate. When we encounter a different perspective, we have a choice: reconsider our stance or dig in our heels. If we take time to analyze the new data, we may end up right where we started, upheld in our beliefs. If we aren’t open to reevaluating our opinions, however, we may miss an opportunity to grow and change. Our beliefs may be shallow if they remain unexamined. Especially if we refuse to hear others’ stories and experiences, we will not mature in our understanding of our communities or the world.      

I’m not sure if the playset will stay or go because to me, it is still symbolic of my kids’ childhoods. Now, it also serves as a reminder to me that we need to reevaluate our convictions when presented with new information. We may be surprised at how much we still need to learn. 

We were late. Late for a very important date. We had reservations at Disney’s Magic Kingdom for breakfast at the Crystal Palace where we would meet Winnie the Pooh and friends, Eeyore, Piglet, and Tigger. It’s one of my favorite family traditions. Perhaps it’s more important to me at this point than for my kids.  My nursery as a baby was Winnie the Pooh themed. The cartoons about the Pooh eating so much he got stuck in his doorway, the blustery day, and Pooh pretending to be a rain cloud with a blue balloon in order to get honey from a beehive played on the Wonderful World of Disney on Sunday nights, so I’ve always loved Pooh Bear. I read the original A.A. Milne version of the stories to my daughter Riley when she was a baby, and we would rock at naptime reading those stories.  

On this morning, the bus literally pulled away while we were headed to the bus stop, so we had to wait quite a while to catch another one. By the time we got to the Magic Kingdom, through the admission lines, and walked to the restaurant, we were at least twenty minutes late. Miraculously, I hadn’t yelled at anyone in our family up to that point because we were all at fault, but I felt anxious. Mostly I worried that we might not be seated and end up being charged the high cost anyway. 

Yet when we arrived at the restaurant, we met the sweetest woman named Sammy at the check-in desk. She could’ve come right out of central casting for a fairy godmother for a Disney movie. She had white hair and glasses and wore the yellow apron and white hat as her uniform. We apologized for our tardiness and explained that we’d had a hard time catching a bus. She checked us in and told us not to worry. Then she said, “Put it behind you now. You’re going to have a fantastic day.” She could see the panic in my eyes and chose to ease my concerns. As we walked away to wait for our table to be ready, she called out in a sing-song voice, “Remember, it’s all behind you now.”  

She could’ve given us a hard time for being late. I would’ve accepted it as what we deserved for our mistake. Instead, she offered an abundance of grace. She could feel my stress but decided to ease my worry. Her advice changed my outlook and my day. I also used the same tip later when one of my kids was upset about something that had occurred. I said, “Remember what the lady told me? We’re going to put this behind us now.” 

Simple advice in some ways but Sammy gave it at the right time about a minor problem – one that could’ve hampered my entire day. So, I’m going to try and remember the mantra that Sammy, the pseudo fairy godmother, said when I feel myself pulled into worrying about a small issue that’s in the past and remember to put it behind me.