TIME-OUT: The Skinny on Doubt

The Little Sister of Fear, Part I

What You Do Is Not Who You Are

One of the hardest identities for me to let go of was Volleyball Mom. I loved being a Volleyball Mom. Our daughter called me “Jenny” when I was being too much Volleyball Mom. I always took that as a signal to lay off whatever zeal about volleyball I was manifesting, thus annoying her.

I knew nothing about volleyball until our daughter decided to play in middle school. Even though I was a competitive athlete and still am an athlete, volleyball was unfamiliar to me.

Part of the way I am wired is to go all-in on something especially if I a) don’t understand it; and, b) if it affects me directly.

For example, I married an active-duty Army-guy but when we met he was stationed at the Army War College then ROTC at Johns Hopkins University which are non-deployable units. Non-deployable unit means that the people who work and are ‘stationed’ there, aren’t physically training for and sent to conflicts elsewhere, but rather they are mentally trained – some might call these ‘desk jobs’ versus jumping out of planes and helicopters and blowing up things. However, after Johns Hopkins, we were moved to Fort Drum in New York.

In 2005, Fort Drum was one of the most deployable bases in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. For us civilians this means that if you were stationed at Fort Drum in 2005, you were going to war. Even though I had been married to Matt when he worked at The War College and Johns Hopkins, I was not familiar with the military. I did not know the difference between an Officer and an NCO (non-commissioned officer).

Ask people who knew me then, and they will confirm: I knew nothing.

Beginner’s Mind

As such, within a day after our move to Sackets Harbor, a small village outside of Fort Drum, I received a voice mail from a woman whom I didn’t know welcoming me to the Polar Bears. Polar Bears? Was this some camp I had signed our daughter up for and forgotten in the haze and stress of moving from Baltimore to Sackets Harbor? I called Matt on the phone who most-likely laughed really hard when I asked him if he remembered me signing up our daughter for a camp called the Polar Bears. Especially since the Polar Bears was the name of his army unit…

And the woman who called me? She was the wife of the Sergeant Major, Matt’s boss – and Polar Bear Head Honcho. Not a camp counselor.

Now that I’ve set the stage for how ignorant I was, it is important to share that I realized at age thirty-five I knew nothing about the military and quickly set out to learn mil-speak (the military has its own language) and all the nuances of the army and war. I could write a very long book on all the things I didn’t know. But I learned not to be sheepish about my ignorance and just ask, “what is the difference between a battalion and a brigade?” or “what about all these acronyms?” I eventually got it because I wanted to learn because I loved Matt and needed and wanted to understand his career especially since he was going to war.

When it became apparent that volleyball was going to be a huge component of our lives, I recalled my infant-Army-wife days when I asked a lot of questions even though I am sure some people must have thought I had fallen on my head to ask such basic questions. I became a student of volleyball and asked other parents and coaches the why’s and how’s of volleyball even until the last match I watched while our daughter was on the varsity team in college. I was all in. I was a proud Volleyball Mom and loved talking about the skyrocketing trajectory our daughter was on in her sport. She was a champion and I glowed in her success and story.

Until she became very doubtful, unmoored, confused, and sad about playing volleyball in the ACC. After much contemplation and prayer, our daughter made the courageous decision to hang up her spandex – no longer to be a Division I volleyball player in a Power 5 conference which had been her dream. Which meant, I was no longer a Volleyball Mom, an identity that I celebrated.

I grieved alongside her and for me – selfishly. I had given everything to champion her success for many years. I cheered the loudest for her while she transitioned from feeling unchanneled, unwanted, and hopeless only to discover life after volleyball. Simultaneous to her doubt about whom she would be post-volleyball, I felt confused about whom I would be were I not a Volleyball Mom.

Doubt lingered over both of us. She is our solo child and enrolled in college ten-hours away so in one sense, she didn’t need me – to make her meals or drive her to practices – but she needed me emotionally to be there for her. Which left a lot of time on my hands to ponder “what’s next” for me now that she is out of the nest and learning to unfurl her gorgeous wings and fly in her new role? I had such doubt about myself and what was I good at since the thing I had dedicated twenty-years of my life to needed me to let her go and find out who she is.

Deep in my heart, I had no doubt our daughter would rise up from the grief of her decision and find other passions and purpose in life post-volleyball. I knew this because she is way more than a volleyball player: she is compassionate, thoughtful, wise, kind, ambitious, witty, fierce, curious…and, still an athlete. Our gorgeous girl is now an athlete who runs road races, is a cycling instructor, and a counselor at a wilderness-ranch camp in the Teton Mountains.

God never makes a mistake

I believe He waits for us to be ready to surrender to Him and eliminate doubt about who we are and what we want our lives to look like. Even with doubt, the purpose of this life and all of its experiences is not to make ourselves what we think we should be – ACC volleyball player, Famous War Hero, Volleyball Mom – it is to unfold as we already are. To expand and do God’s will.

We must be willing to risk losing everything if we are going to be serious about getting anything. For us to expand into our purpose we must be willing to ask God to show us ourselves as He sees us. I have learned that God wants only the best for us. He is not to be feared but to be loved – as He loves us. It boils down to this: You may live in fear or you may live in love. Doubt is the little sister of fear. I invite you to consider that you never know what is possible until you try.

Let’s go. Let’s shine!

The game is not over…there IS a 5^th Quarter.