If I spend this moment mourning the loss of another moment, I miss this precious glimmer of beauty, Grace, joy, friendship, connection. That is the real loss.
My granddaugther Eileen is seven, and she plays soccer. She’s built like Olive Oyl – lanky, lean and deer-like. (Remember Popeye?) Eileen is quick, and I have no aspirations for her athletic prowess. Like her parents, I’m content to be in the present and not make a big deal out of sports. (Been there, done that.)
A few weeks ago, Eileen’s team was ahead 8-0, and her coach called a time-out. He explained that the opponents had lost every game this year without scoring.
As Eileen’s team returned to the field, they were determined in their new plan of attack. The offense missed the ball, the defense was sluggish, and the goalie’s timing was off. The other team scored three goals, and its players and parents went nuts! They were ecstatic as they leaped, cheered, and hugged!
Eileen told her mom that was the best game of the year.