Lessons from the ballfield

This past weekend, I had the chance to watch two of my three kiddos take the field—my daughter in her final tournament of the season, and my son on his elite 12U travel baseball team. It was so hot. The kind of heat that clings to your skin and seeps into your patience. But even in that steamy sun, I witnessed something far more meaningful than just games.

I saw grit. I saw growth. I saw what sports can teach us—not just about the kids playing, but about life itself.

My Daughter: Finishing Strong and Lifting Others

It was the last tournament of the season for her rookie travel softball team. They made it all the way to the Gold Bracket Championship, finishing second—a first for their team.

She showed up not just as a player, but as a teammate in the truest sense. She cheered. She encouraged. Her presence mattered. And in those moments, I saw her heart shine even brighter than her game.

She reminded me that being “good” isn’t just about stats—it’s about showing up when your team needs you most.

My Son: Pressure, Perseverance, and Pride

He played multiple roles this weekend—pitcher, catcher, left field, center field, right field, and designated hitter. The bats weren’t swinging the way he hoped, and I could see the frustration. But what stood out more than any stat was his perseverance.

He didn’t check out. He leaned in. He stayed focused. He kept showing up for his team, even when it wasn’t going his way.

That’s the stuff that sticks. Not just the hits or the outs, but the way he handled the hard moments.

The Heat Was Relentless, But So Were They

By Monday evening, I was sticky, sunburned, and emotionally spent. But I was also full—in that deep, quiet way only a parent can feel after watching their kids rise.

This weekend reminded me that:- Growth doesn’t always look like winning.- Grit is built in the moments no one cheers for.- And sometimes, just showing up is the win.

As a mom, I’ve learned that the sidelines are sacred. That’s where we witness the quiet victories—the internal ones. And while my kids were learning to fight, fall, and rise again, so was I.

Thank you, ballfield. Once again, you delivered more than a game.