It's a good Game!

I never tried out for sports in grade school, because I couldn't play. I was always the last one picked for teams, the one who stood out like a needle in a haystack, with bruised knees and scrawny arms.
I sized up both teams, and secretly hoped I would be on the one with the stronger players, and by stronger I mean, where I'd least likely be noticed.
I suppose even though I was worthy of the most horrible player of the year award, I still enjoyed playing. I simply didn't enjoy the competative nature of the whole game. To me it was just a game. It was all about fun, and enjoying ourselves. Unfortunately, it simply wasn't.
I think it's funny how much fear I brought into the game. The fear of making a mistake, like it would be the end of the world. If it didn't show in my posture, it would likely show on my face. I have what your call severe blushing, it doesn't take much to turn ketchup red. Trust me.

But at home I was fearless it seemed. Picking up spiders, bugs, frogs, crabs. Wild birds, mice, rabbits, chipmunks, seagulls and skunks. Yes, skiunks. That is another story in itself. I picked up pretty much anything that moved with my bare hands. I would climb the highest tree, until as far as I felt the branch would hold my weight. I held my breath with the edrenalyn that raced through my heart. Each footing carefully thought out before I made my move, just like the game of chess.

Until this day my father has instilled the sweet pleasure of a life lesson I will carry through with my daughter.
Although more rare than I would like, every once in a while dad and myself find ourselves blowing dust off the ol' chess board and emersing ourselves in the game of the mind. It is fun. It is intense. It is certainly mind boggling. We are both fighting to win, and praising each others efforts. My dad knows when he's made a good move. He can see it on my face as my mind goes deep into thought. Already thinking about my next move, I try to imagine what dad is thinking. Because he knows so much more than I do, and that is what I admire.

I have inherited my father's perfectionism.
I try so hard to do my best or give up trying. I think it's a blessing and a character flaw at the same time because I often find that I am too hard on myself. Above all I am my own worst critique.
I have given up on a lot of things, because of the ungodly belief that I am not good enough.
But, on the contrary...
This allowed us to become closer. We shared this in common.
like those all nighter assignments you stayed up all night to help me with. That confidence I handed into my English teacher, was that with our minds working together, the many coffee's of course, and the great conversations. We pulled it off!!! They were always the projects I was most proud of, because I had your help.
And you always created the best websites & panoramic photo's. I don't think I totally understood this until I found my artistic side. The hours I put in felt more like minutes. I realized now how we've all become very detail oriented. I just need to focus the details in the right areas.

Another blessing that I have built within my spirit, is patience. That healing/ change & gratification do not come instantly. That we as people are on our own schedules. When we are ready for change, we are more accepting.

So back to our game of chess. I am proud to see your enthusiasm, light up the room. That in all our games of chess, the one and only time I won, I knew was strategy and strategy only. That's what made it special, because it was always a good game no matter who won. I loved that you never just let me win. I had to work for it.

A valued quality I carried through to playing sports.
Unfortunately not everyone loved my enthusiasm, for playing because I couldn't play, but they couldn't see it the way I saw it. I 'll get better. Just you watch.
No time in the world could stop me from getting any worse. By high school, (I haven't played since)for the life of me could not serve the volleyball over the net. Because that annoying voice was ringing inside my ear from the other side of the net. 'No wait. Whoops. Sorry. It was actually my own team screaming, 'Come on, Geez'
Okay so I still suck at playing, some things never change. I obviously hadn't. Neither did the people whom I attended grade school. Still... years later I am humiliated. Therefore I can't play. I can't function.

Hmmm... Future team. How about a little encouragement once in a while. Were on the same team don't forget. You are not a better person than me, nor I a better person than you. It is okay if we play/do things differently. With encouragement is the possibility of getting better.
With discouragement, we are set up for failure.

This works for family members as well. It is known that hurting people hurt people, but really think about what you say before you say it. Imagine for a moment yourself in the position of the recipient of that comment. How would it make you feel?? If it would make you feel bad, why would you say it to someone else?

Future opponent. We are playing the same game. We are both trying are best. And we are both mindful and polite of our differences. We do not need to be the same to succeed. As long as we are proud of how we played. You know when you've been hit. And you know when you need to bring up your game, and you do it with respect.
And when you win, which you will plenty. It's not 'We are the champion's, no time for losers) It's a good game.

I have admiration for that outlook.

Thanks dad.