We signed my 4-year old son, Jacob, up for soccer. It's just the YMCA league. Small potatoes. Nothing intimidating for such a young guy. I thought he would just love it. He loves activity. He loves playing soccer in the backyard. I had no reason to think that it would be anything other than a fun hour or two every week of kicking balls, giggling, tripping, and little kids meleeing each other.
We did what any first time parents would do. We went to Target. We bought a brand new soccer ball, size 3. We bought shin guards. We bought new clothes. We bought cleats. This kid was outfitted right. His birthday is coming up this weekend, so we made the whole soccer experience part of his birthday present.
When we arrived at practice everything went according to my and Jacob's preconceived plan. He ran around kicking the ball and having fun. Us parental types met together more officially to organize orange wedge distribution at halftime of the first game and callibrate t-shirt sizes for the kids. After that, we got down to business. It was practice time.
Have you seen that new E-Trade commercial where the baby is online trading stocks and he uses some of his dividends to hire a clown? "I really under estimated the creepiness", the baby says. Well, Jacob and I really under estimated the "fail factor".
After showing the kids what dribbling a soccer ball is, Coach Kelly told them to line up, dribble down to the goal, shoot, and hopefully score. Fun first activity, right? Jacob gets all excited. You can see his little mind turning at 9000 rpm. He was going to run down there, dribble the ball perfectly, and then kick it into the goal with such force and power as to wow all us onlookers and God in heaven.
Unfortunately, his mind failed to communicate effectively that vision to his feet. He started dribbling and of course the ball got away. That didn't seem to deter him. He chased after it, still kicking, this time further away from the goal. Eventually he realized what was going wrong, righted himself, and started back toward the promised land. Immortality was still in his grasp.
He dribbled once more. Then twice. He was right by the goal. Victory was near. He reered back, kicked with all his might. He missed the goal by three feet.
It was all just a little too much for him. Missing the goal. Dribbling awkwardly. The new clothes. The fancy shin guards. The new shoes. The shiny ball. It was supposed to go in! It was supposed to be perfect! His little mind turned and turned. He passed 9000 rpm, heading straight for the red line. Warning! Warning! A blown gasket was a real possibility at this point.
He gathered his ball, on the edge of tears already, then turned and beelined back toward the other goal. He dribbled. He veered. He lost control. He missed again.
This time, he couldn't contain his emotions. He had failed. He was a miserable soccer player. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He cried. He sat down on the field. He threw his ball in disgust. He put on a nice show.
Expectation. It's a magical word. In many ways it defines how we experience life. Jacob expected to be a soccer pro at age 4. He expected his new shin guards, cleats, clothes, and ball to magically provide him with advanced soccer skill. He expected to do well and score and make me proud. When he couldn't do that on his first attempt, he didn't know what to do except cry and give up.
Expectation. I expected Jacob to have fun. I didn't expect him to get upset and cry over one missed goal. I didn't expect him to think that his new equipment would give him ability that he didn't have and probably couldn't have at that age. I expected him to fail, and, unfortunately, I expected him to expect that.
This post isn't really about Jacob's failure, but my failure. I prepared my son for soccer physically. I didn't prepare him emotionally. We should have talked about what to do when you fall down. I should have told him weeks in advance that he was going to miss. He was going to fail. He was going to have the ball taken away. He wasn't going to bend it like Beckham at his first practice.
We all face crappy circumstances. There are times when what actually happens doesn't match our expectations. That's why it's so important that we see ourselves from God's perspective. We need to make our goals God's goals. We need to expect of ourselves what God expects of us, nothing more and nothing less. Then, we can trust that God will be with us, helping us, preparing us in advance for trials and opportunities.
Yesterday I took Jacob outside and we talked about soccer. I showed him all kinds of new things. I told him what to do when he falls down. I told him what the other kids are going to do to him at his game on Saturday. After we do this a few more times, Jacob is going to be mentally and physically prepared to play ball on gameday.
God won't send you into a situation that He hasn't prepared you to face. He's not like me, just a simple dad. That doesn't mean it will be easy. Far from it. Still, He will be there to help. He will put people in your life that can help you succeed. God has not forsaken us. We can rely on that. Failure is often just the first step toward success.
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