cue the lights, a mist of rain, and an altogether cold kind of day for softball…
amazingly, I make it on base after somehow I hit the ball. wait for the next person. then I’m told to run. so I do. except, this time the base doesn’t really like me. I’ve decided it must have a grudge or something. Because, really, why would anybody want to trip the poor girl who can’t even really throw the ball far enough to make it from home base to the pitcher’s mound. But, it does. and hello face plant in the dirt with a scramble to get back up followed by a “maybe, I should have practiced that…”
what I’ve learned is that playing a sport you don’t really know (I’m a runner, a tennis player, a golfer), you didn’t grow up with, is out of your comfort zone…well, it’s really humbling.
Even as a little girl, I didn’t play softball. To be honest, I don’t even know all the rules. still.
I’m learning, though. To laugh. To not take myself so seriously. To be okay with who I am in my own skin. To not cry or cringe every time I have to pick up a ball to throw. To not let my mind come up with all sorts of ideas of what others could be thinking about my paltry attempts. To let the laughter and looks roll off my shoulders. To celebrate the little things. To keep playing even when my face is in the dirt. To get back up and say, “hey, thanks God…you’re teaching me a lot through this whole fiasco with a base and some dirt.”