An Open Letter to the Sport that Changed our Lives

Dear Wrestling,

Thank you. Thank you for allowing my family to be a part of something bigger than we are. Thank you for the memories. Thank you for the heartbreak. Thank you for the friends we've made along the way. Thank you for showing us that some friendships aren't truly friendships when its just the two of you on that mat. Thank you for proving that some friendships are
stronger than who's hand gets raised. Thank you for dreams that come true. Thank you for the lessons learned.

When we started this journey 6 years ago (wow, has it only been 6 years, it feels like so much more), I never dreamed how important you would become in our lives. When my 106 pound 7th grader slammed the door after practice one day mid season saying he wanted to quit, I never thought our relationship would continue. We've never quit anything so he endured until the end, but it didn't matter to me either way if he chose to see you again. He had an ok season with more losses than wins and was granted the most improved wrestler award. We tried something new, it wasn't our favorite, and that is ok.


But our relationship did continue. He put on 15 pounds in that first month post season, was happy because he could eat again, and came back as a stronger 126 pound 8th grader. He learned that 2 raspberry doughnuts the night before a match will make you be 4 ounces overweight. He never missed weight again, no matter what it cost him. He had a stellar season, taking down opponent after opponent, until the conference championship. He learned that 6 consecutive backthrows will wear you out and bring the whole gym to its feet. And even if you lose by 3 points, you have the satisfaction of being a part of the best match of the tournament. He received the most valuable award, made a long term friend, & I was a proud momma.


We trained tirelessly through the off season. Practice, tournaments, medals, the top of the podium. It felt good & we started thinking that we liked this sport called wrestling.






Freshman year found him 6 pounds heavier and completely in awe at how the competition changed. That's ok, it just meant he had to work harder. He learned that you have to keep fighting until
the very last second even when you're down by 4 against a senior, because all you need is 12 seconds, a reversal, & back points to win & surprise everyone. He learned what fighting through the pain meant when he suffered a 2nd degree AC tear at Regionals and refused to stop or forfeit the remainder of his matches that day. He learned you can always go to the hospital when its over with. He earned the coach's award that year and realized that 2nd place at AAU States isn't bad for a freshman. And we started thinking.


He put on a few more pounds Sophomore year to weigh in at 138 and learned that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't beat this one local rockstar, but he could finally go toe to toe with him after two years without getting pinned. He learned that some matches will almost always result in needing a police escort and some fans just suck. He learned that 6th in the Region wasn't what he wanted. His teammates voted him to receive the Cardinal award. He returned to AAU States with 2nd place again and we started thinking... maybe there really is a future here.


He returned as a much more confident 145 pound Junior who had
absolutely fallen in love with you. He had a passion that would not be denied. He was a leader, an example, and a teacher. He learned that unfortunately, those certain fans still suck, sometimes friendships cannot overcome that, his momma is always in his corner fighting with him, and his papa has a temper. He learned that your 100th win as a Junior is amazing. He learned that being the Conference Champion, being named the #1 seed in the region and #3 seed in the state is sweet, but the stats don't always reflect the outcome and fighting through the blood round at Regionals is brutal. But oh the relief of placing 3rd at Regionals and having the chance to compete on the state level.

We took 4 to the State tournament last year. We had all been to big tournaments before, but to be able to even witness this level of competition was mind blowing. It was exciting, it was inspiring, and it was scary. Three Juniors and a Sophomore ready to take on the world. We learned the true meaning of the spotlight last year, as the weekend went on and we had the only two wrestlers left competing for hardware in the county. We learned that the parade of champions will make you cry & you will never hear We Are the Champions the same way again. We learned that its entirely possible to be physically sick from nerves. We learned the fastest way to the local hospital after landing on your head and neck and not being able to squeeze your coach's hand. We learned that 2nd

place in all the State is not a bad place to be. We learned that true friends will take a picture with you
in the hospital, neck brace and all, because you didn't get to stand on the podium. Hey, that picture looks pretty cool in the yearbook too. He realized that its ok to take a break and we really started thinking about college.



Over the summer, that upcoming Senior fought to remain at 145 pounds. He learned that JRob Intensive Camp is a beast. He learned what it was like to be over 7 hours from home for 2 weeks and realized even though he's growing up, he still gets homesick. He learned that sometimes, no matter how hard he tries, his body will not cooperate, will catch every sickness going around, and will shut down completely. He learned what sheer exhaustion was.




Before the season ever started this year, we learned the excitement of getting scouted. We learned that all the effort and hard work was paying off. We learned that dreams do come true and we learned he could have a home in Bristol, TN if he wanted it.

This year, my Senior learned that the spotlight isn't as pretty when it shines brightest on you. As an unknown Junior, he came out of nowhere to place 2nd in State. As a returning Senior, all eyes were on him, waiting and watching, picking apart the successes and failures. He learned that some matches just aren't yours to win. He learned that its a harder struggle to lose with grace and dignity than it looks. He learned that some refs are biased and make wrong calls, that sometimes luck wins out, yes, those same fans, plus many more, still suck, and that his daddy will fight for him, even if they both get suspended. He learned that people are going to talk about you, no matter what. He learned that
injuries can decide a period, a match, or a season. He learned the heartache that one bad move can allow the 5th seed to beat the 1st seed and win the Conference. He learned that talk is cheap. He learned that far too many matches are won or lost in the last seconds. He learned that his momma will cry her eyes out after a heart stopping match on the side of the mat without caring who's around her. He learned that 2nd in the Region with a return trip to State is just as sweet as it was the first time.

Unfortunately, my family had to learn the heartache of choosing between two equally important events and I had just watched my last wrestling match in person. I would have to watch the State Tournament via live stream while on a trip with my daughter. I was devastated.

We took our only two Seniors back to state this year and what a duo they are. Those two have had each other's backs since day one. They have fought beside each other in karate at 5 years old. They have battled beside each other for 12 years of football. They have coached, cheered, encouraged, and cried beside each other for 6 years of wrestling. How very fitting that these two finished out the year, the season, and their careers with the same color medal. Silver doesn't shine as brightly as gold, but it ain't dull by no means. That duo, for the 2nd year in a row, placed higher than anyone else in the county. That duo is nothing short of amazing! And we learned that the parade of champions still makes you cry, even harder when one of your best friends is walking along side of you.


I'll be perfectly honest, going into Senior year, just the thoughts of Senior night made me anxious. I thought I would be a basket case. But I developed a love hate relationship with you this year, wrestling. Oh how I loved you, how I loved watching my son do what he loved to do. How I got just as nervous as he did, how I moved right along side of him trying to help him get out of sticky situations. How my heart pounded for however much time of those six minutes he needed, and how I was physically sick when it took longer than six minutes. But oh the pressure. The pressure was physically crushing this year like it has never been before. The pain I saw as his body took a beating. The disappointment I saw in him as he relived every single mistake. The anger when he thought things didn't go the way they should have. The fear of letting everyone down. The sorrow of realizing its over. The uncertainty of what comes next.

Now that his high school career is over, he's made a very adult decision. Even though he worked hard enough to accomplish his dream of continuing with you in college, he's decided that its time to go your separate ways. He has hung up his shoes. He has left everything he has on the mat for the very last time and can walk away with his head held high knowing it was a life changing experience.


So wrestling, I thank you. I thank you for helping turn my son into a man. I thank you for teaching us that some of the most important lessons in life don't come from the top of the podium. I thank you for the joy you have brought me and the tears you have cost me. You have shaped this whole family more than you will ever know. It's been an amazing ride and I wouldn't change the twists and turns for anything.


Sincerely,

A Grateful Wrestling Mom

Come to the Table

"Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price. 

Wherefore do ye spend money for that which is not bread? and your labour for that which satisfieth not? hearken diligently unto me, and eat ye that which is good, and let your soul delight in fatness.

Seek ye the Lord while he may be found, call ye upon him while he is near."

Isaiah 55:1,2,6

On this New Year's morning, the bright and shiny day of a new year, a new decade even, the tears came fast and free as I read my devotional.

The past couple of days have been great at my house. We haven't had any real plans. We haven't been rushing from one place to another. We have had time to sit down at our table (yes, I really have one when it's not covered with stuff), eat supper, and enjoy family time. With 3 different practice schedules, a full time job, a part time job with hours that are more full time than part, 2 coaching jobs, plus 2 teenagers that have plans of their own, those days are few and far between. 

When life gets so crazy hectic, the guilt really sets in. I worry if they are enjoying their childhood. I worry that its all too much. I worry if I have done enough, or taught enough, or loved enough.

With our busyness, too often I neglect the house, family dinners, bedtime stories, the 3rd grader's homework, my personal needs, writing, God, too many things to list. And of course, I don't have anything to cook for breakfast, so its frozen waffles...again.

Then I read this devotional that I've been enjoying by an equally busy mom of 4 boys and it pierces my heart the way good things so often do.

"Today, Jesus invited me to come to His table. Come and eat, He wants to fill me up, yet I have this lingering doubt, Do you really want just me? I don't have much to offer...I should really bring something...earn my place at your table. I scrape together a chocolate dirt and worms pudding pie full of excuses, I'm sorrys and should haves. I bring along a list of what I think I got right and how I'm trying so hard. It's the best I could do amidst the hurriedness of life. 

Arriving, I'm embarrassed to see I am His only guest. There is a table full of my favorites laid out before me as a reminder of how well He knows my heart. Then Jesus himself serves me. The main course of truth with a side of grace and oh-so-sweet bread of life lathered in love. I set my dirt and worms pie off to the side realizing my effort wasn't needed, He just wanted me to enjoy dinner on the house."

I'm so thankful that Jesus doesn't place the same expectations on my life that I do. I'm so thankful that even though I think I have failed far more than I could have possibly succeeded, He is still there, waiting, with His table set beautifully just for me.

*devotion from The Shadow of My Porch Swing*

You Say

Why is it harder to listen to what you know is the truth than to worry about a whispered lie?

On the outside, I have always been a self confident, independent person, but oh if you could see the insecurities that lay just under the surface.

The devil has really been working overtime on my mind lately. I question decisions, conversations, people. I doubt my worth as a wife & mother. I worry that my children aren't loved & appreciated the way I know they should be. I wonder where certain friends disappear to when I need someone to talk to.

I know that I am a princess because my father is the king. I know that the devil is a liar & the author of confusion. I know the promises God has made me. I know that the devil wants to rob me of my joy because he certainly can't have my soul.

But oh how hard it is to remember these truths sometimes.

I'm thankful that my pastor somehow knew my heart tonight & spoke right to me.

Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labour and 

are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Lord, I'm trying so hard to remember what you say & not listen to those lies & insecurities. And in the meantime, while I'm trying to remember who I am, please forgive me if I seem a little extra edgy or insecure.

It's a Great Day to Be Alive

It's been rough around here lately. It's hard to find the words to express everything I/we are feeling. We lost a good man recently & today we celebrated his life.

My daughter's favorite teacher of all time passed away expectantly. It hit her hard. It hit her class hard. Those kids, those teachers, that school will forever be changed by the life he lived.

I knew almost immediately the impact Dustin Transou was having on my 12 year old daughter. See, we have always listened to all kinds of music, so when she started playing Michael Jackson & The Avett Brothers (to name just a few), I didn't question it. But as she started playing these songs more & more frequently, I realized that he was opening her eyes even wider than I had. It's a Great Day to be Alive was one of his favorite songs & he played it all the time for the kids.

With his passing, those songs played on a constant loop for her.

So in honor of his birthday... It's a Great Day to be Alive

Making A Difference...

***DISCLAIMER***
If you are ever reading anything that I or anyone else writes & you stop to say "Well, I would never react that way" or "I would never allow that to happen" or "My child would never do that", you need to immediately stop reading & return back to your perfect world, because over here, we are far from perfect! I write my heart. I always have, with very little censorship. I write, not to glorify our imperfections, or our insanity, but to bring light to the fact that NO ONE is perfect & we all struggle in our own ways. Some of us more than others. And some of us are a little more vocal about it. So if you want a little encouragement that your child isn't the only one making incredibly stupid decisions or that you aren't the only mom out there just barely making it day to day, please read on & feel free to drop a comment on the latest disaster going on in your life. No judgement here, I promise!
***

I was in town recently, getting ready to drive home. The windows were cracked, because it was the first day in a long time that it hasn't been freezing. As I'm getting ready to pull out onto the street, a friend of Austin's catches my attention as I hear her exclaim "There's Tracie!" & see her waving wildly. I laugh & wave back thinking "hmm, I can't believe she recognized me". See this girl has only met me a couple of times & here I was, in my car, hair pulled back, sunglasses on, yet still she knew it was me.

It made me smile because I thought, "well, maybe I am making a difference".

And immediately tears sprang to my eyes as a different thought about making a difference crossed my mind. The realization that I could have just saved someone's life or at the very least, made them reconsider some very bad decisions floored me.

.....

When my 16 year old came home recently with alcohol on his breathe & an illegal substance in his pocket (which upon further investigation may or may not have been his - regardless - guilty by association), I was devastated. I was angry. I was disappointed. I was worried. I was confused. I was hurt.

For the millionth time, I questioned every decision I've ever made as a mother.

And then I did something I never thought I would do, something I never thought I would have to do. I called the law on a teenage party.

I knew a friend of ours was working so I knew he would go check it out. Invoking fear into these kids, letting the parents know what was going on, without anyone getting into too much trouble, hopefully.

At first, I questioned the hasty decision, but as time passed, I realized that I did the right thing & I knew without a doubt that I would do it all over again. If I kept one of those kids from hurting themselves or someone else, if I somehow scared the daylights out of one of them & made them realize what a mistake they were making, it was all worth it!

So I'll just keep on being that mean mom & pray that I am making a difference...one angry teenager at a time!

What if Christmas, Perhaps, Means a Little Bit More

As I sit here this morning in the soft glow of the Christmas tree anxiously waiting for the chaos to begin, I realize just how blessed I am. I have so much to be thankful for, but yet, somehow I feel sad.

I haven't been very Christmasy this year. I don't know what's wrong with me.

Just like every other year, we go to a different tree farm & pick out our tree Thanksgiving weekend. But somehow even that felt forced. We (um, mainly me) didn't walk over 97% of the farm to find the perfect tree. We picked one after only looking at about 5. That's unheard of.

We put it up & had to squeeze in decorating it one night after church so that kept the kids up late. (You know me & how I am about bedtime.) Then the kids fussed over this petty thing & that petty thing. One was more interested in social media than helping. So I ended up crying at the table.
*see previous post*

Anyway, then somehow time slipped right by me. As December sped by, I didn't get the chance find the time to decorate anything else for the house. Do you hear me? ANYTHING. No lights outside. No fun knick knacks inside. No mistletoe hanging in the dining room. No tinkling bells that I enjoy so much. No special Santa plate & glass. I didn't even put the Christmas cards up & that has always been my favorite "decoration".

What is wrong with me??

I have far too many things to be thankful for, but yet it's not coming easy right now.

I don't think I've gotten caught up in the "hustle & bustle" or the commercialism, but I sure have gotten caught up in life. Between me working a lot more than I have in recent years (almost every day subbing - which I LOVE so don't read anymore in to that), Justin working EMS nights, with his dad some days, & coaching every afternoon, church activities, & juggling three sports schedules, I feel like I'm drowning. I'm just trying to make it til bedtime some days.

I love supporting our kids & I love watching them, but let's be honest, I'm tired. I honestly don't even remember the last time I cooked.

Everyone was so excited about the big snow we had a couple of weeks ago because they got to slow down & just enjoy each other. That didn't happen at our house. Justin & Austin scrapped snow the majority of the time. Justin still worked EMS, because emergencies don't stop for a blizzard. And we had the stomach bug so it was hard to enjoy it.

Justin had to work last night (& tonight as well) so our Christmas Eve traditions were a little rushed & I had to be Santa by myself for the first time. Austin stayed with him so I'm sad that even though he would have went to bed just like the other kids & he will be here soon, just knowing he wasn't home Christmas Eve is hard.

Again, I'm not complaining, just trying to figure out why my heart hurts.

I miss Christmas from years ago. I miss Christmas Eve at my grandparent's house. I miss my grandparents. I miss getting together with aunts, uncles, & cousins. I miss my aunt's chex mix. I miss the elaborate family dinners. Oh, we still have them on Justin's side, but its not the same.

Soon my family will be home, my parents will come over, & my littles will wake up (hopefully in that order) & the chaos will begin. As I've watched the sun rise & wiped a few tears away, my heart feels a little lighter. I just don't want to take any of it for granted.

If this doesn't make sense, don't hold it against me. My thoughts were running wild this morning.

From my family to yours, MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Do You See What I See

We put up our Christmas tree yesterday. We always try to do it Thanksgiving weekend, but we just barely got that accomplished this time. The kids are getting older & schedules are getting busier. And its sad.

I am very picky about how the lights are placed, the more the better, so the kids don't even bother trying to help with that part. Well, Logan still does. Then its all theirs. It really doesn't matter to me how the ornaments are put up. Sure I'll move one here & there when a limb is weighted down, there's too much in one spot, or a big gaping hole that no one but me sees, but other than that, I'm good.

It's beautiful. It usually is. Not because we spent a lot of money on decorations or because a professional did it, but because its ours & it's decorated with love... at least I hope.

The pictures show smiles & a pretty tree. You see it. We all see it. At least the parts that we want you to see & the parts that can actually be photographed.

But do you see what I see?

I see my husband trying to cook supper at 8pm while I put the lights up because we haven't had any other time together as a family. I see them staying up past bedtime & hoping no one is grumpy in the morning. I see one child not feeling well. I see one child fussing at another for ringing the bells too loud. I see one child repeatedly throwing snowflakes at the tree. I see one child on their phone instead of enjoying this. 

I see the supper I'm trying to eat even though the tears make it hard to swallow. I see the past when we got along better. I see Christmas from my childhood & I see happiness. I see them all grown & no longer home to help decorate the tree. I see them looking back on their childhood with more heartache than fondness. I see disappointment, shame, regrets, & what ifs.

But then, as I'm putting Logan to bed, he smiles & tells me he had fun & I see love. Through more tears, I see love. And I see a weary momma trying desperately to hang on to the magic even though the world has made her jaded & her kids are growing up entirely too fast.

I'm glad you don't see what I see. Oh how I miss when times were simpler.