Confessing … May 9th, 2015

 

  Jonathots Daily Blog

(2576)

I.

I confess so I can heal.

If I deny, I remain sick.

Some years ago, my two sons joined a junior high soccer team at their school–a program which was a perennial loser.

It turns out that my fellows were quite good and joined others in rejuvenating the team to victory.

It was very exciting. I don’t believe I ever missed a game.

On one Thursday afternoon, I was sitting in the stands with family members and a bunch of other excited parents as our home team literally obliterated the other visiting squad, 12-1.

The boys were so thrilled.

Everybody was jumping up and down, shouting and hollering, with all sorts of victory catcalls–until the opposing coach walked over and strongly requested to be able to address both teams with some of his reservations.

The young men who had been so jubilant suddenly found themselves sitting in the middle of the field on the ground, being lectured on good sportsmanship by the guy who just lost the game.

It lit my fuse. I lost my cool.

I walked out on the field, yanked my boys from the circle and headed them toward the car. The preaching coach asked me what my problem was.

I turned around and said, “You’re the one who needs the lecture…on how to be a better loser.”

There was a cheer from some of the nearby parents, so I felt justified.

On the way home I railed against the coach in front of my children, being further energized by my own sense of self-righteousness.

But I was wrong.

You see, sometimes I feel justified about being wrong because I’m convinced I’m not as wrong as someone else. I’m only responsible for my wrong–not the wrongdoings of the entire planet.

I spent the next week in turmoil, my conscience challenging my irrational behavior, until I finally apologized to my children, my family and also went to the nearby school and offered my repentance to the coach.

It felt good to confess.

But even as I tell the story today, I am curious if there is any part of me that still welcomes that infuriated, pompous ass who spewed his anger on the field that day.

I don’t really grow until I take what I’ve done wrong and murder it off every day when it tries to resurrect.

Am I capable of becoming incensed over the foolishness I see around me? I’m on the hunt to find it–because joining the insanity does not aid the treatment.

We have enough people in the asylum.

What we lack are caregivers.

 

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