Now, before you ask...yes...I'm 24...and seriously...I've never actually been to a baseball game before.
Sheesh people, it's not like its the great american sport or anything...
Anyway, my first baseball game, a fourth and fifth grade game, and I couldn't have been more excited. I'd been looking forward to it all day long, and I had the full experience.
Close your eyes and imagine a little league baseball field. bases are loaded, and the kid up to bat is swinging with all his might to hit that hard white ball that whizzes at him, 15, 20, 30 miles an hour from a good pitcher. The smell of popcorn wafts from the concession stand, parents are cheering and giving directions from the stands, and you're spitting ranch flavored sunflower seeds as far as you can.
Then, very softly at first, the rain begins to fall. Of course you brought your umbrella because you should always bring an umbrella to a baseball game. Or...your friend told you it was going to rain...
Soon the rain is coming down in bigger splatters, dripping off your umbrella in little rivers...and the water begins to pool in the spot your are sitting.
But the kids play on, so you stay, standing up to watch, and save your rear from a thorough soaking.
As I stood there, just as you've imagined, my friend Beth and I became aware of something amiss in this idyllic scene. Between the cheers of the parent, one mother seemed to be struggling.
"If you don't hold the umbrella right here, the stuff is going to get all wet!" She exclaimed to her five-year-old, exasperated. "Why are you rolling your pants up? You're going to get cold!" On the game went, any silence on the field punctured by the mother's frustrated attempts to control her child and still watch the game. Every time he ran off to play, she was calling him back. Every time he brought her something to show her, he was told he should be watching his brother play. Worried about the blankets and chairs, and how to properly hold the umbrella, this mom seemed tired.
I will not pronounce judgement on this woman's parenting for this small thing. I have no idea how her day had been going, or anything about her life, other than the fact that one of her sons plays baseball.
Instead, my best friend Beth raised the question that has become the topic of this long-winded blog post.
"Do the things that your mom values become the things that you value?"
For example, if your mom values the furniture, and doesn't allow you to sit on some of it, what does that tell you as a child?
If your mom cares very much about what other people think, do you carry that burden as well?
Or, if your mom often scolds you about whether your clothes get torn, or your chair and blankets get wet, how does that change the way you view things?
We don't keep all of our parents values. Depending on our willpower, and our own ideas, we will often shrug off the things that our moms tell us are important. Which is why you have kids who haven't cleaned their room in months, even though mom tells them every day.
But the deeper question becomes, what do I, as a person who has influence on young kids now, and who will be a parent one day, want to communicate to my kids?
When I think about what I want my kids to know is important, I know for sure, it isn't stuff. It isn't what other people think, or whether they get good grades in school all of the time, or what people say on social media (that's a full blog post for another time), or whether they get wet in the rain.
It's Jesus, and people.
I want my kids to care about what Jesus thinks, and I want them to care how they treat other people.
Does anything else truly matter?
Hanna Elizabeth
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