Perfectly Alright

I remember my dad coaching my little league team one year. As I recall, he was at the meeting and the team needed a coach. He didn't know a lot about baseball, but he coached us. I think about that a lot while I crouch down in the back yard "coaching" Lori as she learns how to pitch softball. (Other thoughts that go through my head while crouched down like a catcher: "I don't think my leg has ever hurt quite like that before," "gonna have to invent some sort of catcher's seat that will propel my body upwards so that I can stand," "please let her chunk one over the fence so she will have to go get it and I can stand for a minute," and "OK, how do you stand when both legs are asleep?") I don't know exactly how to coach her, but I still know a little bit more than her and can see what she's doing that is making the ball miss the mark.

We work on things together. I try to tell her what I'm seeing and offer ways for her to correct her motions so that she can throw more consistently. I constantly encourage her to keep trying. I've tried to notice when her arm starts to get tired so that I can tell her that she will have to concentrate and focus more - hoping that she'll realize that athletic pursuits are also mental pursuits. And I encourage her some more to keep trying, to have a little bit of patience with herself, to focus on the only pitch that matters - the next one.

Through all of this, Lori thinks the goal is to be perfect. She often gets frustrated when she sails one over the fence or rolls one toward some point between third base and home plate. And she also thinks that I expect her to be perfect with every pitch...because I keep holding the glove in the same spot asking her to pitch to that exact same spot over and over and over.

And somewhere in all of this, I've learned that I'm not the only one doing the coaching and Lori isn't the only one being coached. In that crouched down position watching pitch after pitch hit or miss the mark, God is coaching me. The lesson that He's slowly been teaching me is that He's not looking for perfection. He's looking for effort and attitude. He wants me to improve, but He knows I'll never be perfect. And still, He holds the glove in the same spot and asks me to hit the target over and over and over...

Life as I know it is sometimes learned when the knees hurt and the legs fall asleep and the heart swells with the joy of watching a child learn. God calls us to be his children. And if there's one thing I've learned from being a father, its that I love my children. And God desperately wants us to realize how much he loves us.