The Power of a Playing Parent

“For it is God who works in you to will and to act according to His good purpose.  Do everything without complaining or arguing, so that you may become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a wicked and deprived generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of life…”Phil. 2:13-16a

I’ve been thinking lately about soccer and our involvement with our kids in this sport.  I suppose a title could be:

The Power of a Playing Parent

When you sign your son or daughter up for AYSO (American Youth Soccer Organization), it really is as if you are playing.  You could just drop them off and disappear for the two practices a week, but with younger kids that is discouraged.  So, if you are on the premises, you may as well participate. You could sit there and complain about having to go to all of those games, or you could be an encouragement on the sideline.  I want to always be an active parent on the side line of soccer.  I want to cheer loudly when Jo Jo gets the ball, and take notice when he’s even close to getting the ball. When he makes a good play, I want to let the world know, “That’s my kid that just did that assist!”  Though my son may not be a star, I want to cheer him on like he is one.

What I realized this last week-end is that when we go to the games and cheer on our team, we are a shining force.  Even if they lose, they feel like winners when the parents go nuts when any of them does a great corner kick, or save, or head.  I want to be a star in the way I shine on that sideline.  I want to jump in and do the flagging, or fill out the game card, or organize snacks as the Team Mom. 

And how much more of a chance to do that here on this island. 

After a few seasons here in Kona AYSO, you recognize kids and the coaches.  If you don’t get out of the way, you just may get talked into being a coach.  It happened to me two years ago.  I showed up at a parent volunteer meeting saying I wanted to be an assistant coach for the U-8 (under age eight) team.  I somehow walked out being the head coach of Evan’s U-12 team.  Yep. I ended up forever drafted into the kids’ Hall of Fame here in Kona.   I still remember each of those boys’ names.  To this day when I run into Ezra’s mom at Target, or Justin at the theater, or Tui at the Easter Sunrise service I am “coach” to them.

The thing is, that happens even when you’re not coaching.  By just being present, you learn the name of all ten kids on your kid’s team.  You know who is best for taking penalty kicks, and who you don’t want to put in as goalie.  You also get to know the parents. 

This last weekend at the giant end-of-season party, I saw so much cheering by the parents, I figured the lines were fuzzy, and we were just cheering on all of our kids at once.  When Team Dynomite donned their cylinder cardboard crackers, I was cheering.  My husband was shooting photos.  When the Blue Angels strolled out with 3-D cardboard airplanes tied over their shoulders, we were all in wonder.  Every boy that has played on our sons' teams in the past was cheered on by name when his team banner walked by.   I daresay the parents were having as much fun as the kids.

There were some parents who came late, grumbled about the loud music, or sat in their lawn chairs the whole time.  Yet others circulated, thumped coaches on the back, laughed at the kids’ antics, and enjoyed each other.  “For it is God who works in you to will and to act for His good pleasure.”

As I walked around the giant soccer field under the lights that evening, I thought, “Wow.  Half of Kona is here.”  I knew there was a Coffee Festival going on with a parade, but it seemed that half of the working class people of Kona were at that soccer field.  What a chance for impact!  What an opportunity to shine!

I saw many YWAM friends shining like stars that evening, holding out life.  Two dads stood around and got to know an artist dad who crafted the aforementioned Blue Angels get-up.  Moms combined their artistic ability to create the team banner, and pooled their money to secure a Mahalo gift for the coach.  Though we may have been on opposite sides of the field during the season, we were all at the same potluck at the end:  feasting, photographing, and dancing.

My first end-of-soccer dance party, I stood on the side and watched the parents and kids dance. My second year, I wandered in to the mix, trying out a few moves.  This last weekend, I was alongside my son’s coach, attempting  Zumba.  A YWAMer mom was on my left and later one on my right.  I noticed one mom in particular going crazy out there, blond curls bouncing, as she tried to keep up with her U-6 son.  “I’m out here because my son asked me to be his dance partner.”  I recognized her later as someone from my church. 

One coach stood on the side of the dance circle, a lei around his neck.  At his U-14 girls’ urging, he jumped into the dance circle and launched into his best robot dance.  Who was this guy?  The assistant pastor of Living HopeChurch. 

I believe there is more to this than meets the eye.  The whole of AYSO happens from volunteers.  But more than that, friendships are forged.  I have a new running partner, a mom who recently went through a divorce and who has just started attending church again.   Over increased years in this sport, we have galvanized friendships with parents. We know their names.  Something of light and life has rubbed off by the power of parents in the game. 

Palau #3 and last: Big Fish in a Small Pond

PALAU: BIG FISH IN A SMALL POND                                                                         8/6/12

“I think you’re going to like Poulsbo, Kris.  It’s a chance for you to be a big fish in a small town.” I was in sixth grade.  We were moving from the growing suburb of Bellevue, Washington to the very small town of Poulsbo.  How true my dad was.  Within a few years, I was able to land decent roles in the school plays in high school, and to get playing time on the basketball team and varsity track team, and serve as a student body officer.  I probably would have been lost in the crowd at Bellevue High School. 

My father’s words float out to me now as I sit a few degrees above the Equator in the tiny island nation of Palau.  The population of this whole country is about twice the size of Poulsbo today. Each day something happens that is “big-fish-ish.”  For a middle-aged American on a five-week mission in Palau to improve education, I’m getting more than I bargained for. 

One reason for this is there is no elitism.  There are no gated communities, no Streets of Dreams or “the” neighborhoods to get into.  My first hint was our neighbors in Airai, the state just north of the most-populated area, Koror State, where I teach each day.  We live in the nice home of a YWAM friend named Jacqui.  We have three neighbors.  One is Jacqui’s sister.  No surprise in this community-oriented culture to have family nearby.  The other two neighbors were a surprise:  one is a senator, the other, the Minister of Interior.  What?!  There is no way a senator and member of the cabinet would be living on my street in the U.S.  This is like living on Downing Street in London. 

After the conversations I’ve had in the last 24 hours, it's also like being a graduate of Harvard.  And Yale.   It seems that nothing is exempt for us.  No part of this country or society, no matter how big or small, is unavailable to us.  We aren’t a big fish in a small pond.  We are a rowboat in a mud puddle.  Any place I want to jump off this ship is open-game.  I can’t believe it.  Two weeks ago, a visit to my friend Fuana’s company BBQ became a chance to meet the President and his VP, stopping by on their campaign tour. 

I’m finding that “with great privilege comes great responsibility,” as King Henry says to his son in one of my favorite chick-flicks, Ever After.  I can essentially be a super-hero here.  I can use any talent or connection for good, or for evil.  For the benefit of a large number of people, or for myself.  I hope I am choosing well.  

Recently, I was invited to speak at a women’s prayer breakfast. I told them of what happened when we gathered people to pray for the local high schools in the Portland area and in Hawaii, and how they, too, could see statistical change as they pray and care about their local schools.  After my short talk, the woman next to me struck up a conversation.  We decided to pray together when they encouraged us to find a partner.  This woman was going through a struggle, stemming from trying to re-group after the assassination of her father.  Who was her father?  The former president of Palau! 

Another woman greeted me warmly.  I asked Chen what her line of work was.  Chen’s answer was a long one:  “I own a lounge in town, and a flower shop.  I also provide oxygen tanks to the local hospitals.”  The woman next to Chen added that she owns a hotel as well, and a restaurant, and a gas company.  I asked Chen which business she liked the best.  “The dress shop.”  Dress shop?  She didn’t mention that one.  That became the inspiration for her going-away gift for me.  I have loaned her one of my dresses, and she will have her speedy Chinese dress-maker fashion me a dress before I leave in less than a week.  Unreal. 

We decided to visit the capitol buildings, which are only six years old and fashioned after our capitol in D.C.  I was hoping we could get a tour of the inside.  We did.  We met the security guy, who readily gave us a tour of the interior, took us up above the senate, and through the electrical room to the outside of the dome.  From that vantage point, we had a clear view of miles in every direction, and were able to pray for the Palauns, that their government would make just laws and decisions.

Our boys wanted to see a crocodile.  Fuana knew of a YWAM friend who owned one that he’d caught as a baby.   The croc is now huge, as is the gentleman’s influence:  he currently is a senator in his northern state!

Around this time, I grabbed lunch at our favorite internet café in Palau.  An American gentleman in his 60’s sat near me, reading a book about Catholicism in Palau.  When my favorite waitress struck up a conversation with me about an article I wrote in the paper—honoring the owner of a local laundry business—his curiosity was piqued.  He could tell I wasn’t a tourist.   When the waitress let me know that this laundrywoman had a large brain tumor, I was hit with compassion.  “We ought to send some people her way to pray for her!” 

“That’s exactly what she needs!” added the gentleman.  I learned that this man, also, was on-loan from America for a month in a volunteer teaching capacity. 

“Do you mind if I join you?”  I nodded.  This kind-hearted gentleman had retired from teaching in San Francisco to set out to use his giftings for greater purposes in the Pacific.  We exchanged notes.  He had just spent his second summer teaching the Chukese math (on another Micronesian island), and I was finishing up my last week teaching teachers from Palau and Yap here in Palau.  Through his connection with various Catholic missions, Bob Scavullo had come to the same conclusions I had about several aspects of the culture, diet and long-term health of these islanders. 

I told Bob of my desire to help Marshallese in Kona.  I’d been working with them for about a year, had been doing research on their situation, and longed to enable them to navigate American ways more successfully.  By the time we were finished with our conversation, Bob had told me about a Chukese man who works for the University of Hawaii in Hilo (the other side of the Big Island where we live) to specifically help Pacific Islanders get into and succeed in college.  He told me about a retired priest who spent 30+ years working in the Marshall Islands, and about the American Ambassador, whom he’d been playing phone-tag with. 

“Email me and I’ll try to connect you with these folks,” Bob offered.

I couldn’t believe it.  Would I ever have access to a senator, daughter of a president (much less meeting the current one), or a US Ambassador back in America?  I don’t think so!  

But the next day would prove access to a whole different form of greatness.  I had just finished teaching at Emmaus High School, and was emptying the garbage in the parking lot of the attached church.  One of the pastors, the husband of one of my teachers, recognized me and invited me inside.  A luncheon had just started for all of the deacons and pastors in the area.  Feeling a nudge to put off my agenda and accept his invite, I greeted a few people I recognized.  Leah, the pastor’s wife, introduced me to “the oldest pastor’s wife in Palau.” I pulled up a chair with this old saint to hear what she had to share.

I found out that not only did Lydia teach for years at Emmaus High School, but she helped translate a “quick form”of the New Testament into Palauan!  It took her years of working on it as part of a group from the Bible Society of Australia.   The quick form was completed in 2004.

On the way out of the luncheon, another older woman greeted me warmly. She thanked me for coming to Palau.  “I’ve heard such wonderful stories of you and your family and about your husband’s teachings since arriving here,” Taio smiled.  I was looking at the oldest sister of a total of ten related to YWAM Kona counselor Linda Subris.  Taio is married to Pastor Billy, the present pastor of Koror Evangelical church.  Taio and Linda’s father translated the whole NewTestament into Palauan.  Mr. Subris worked with a missionary from Germany in the 60’s and 70’s to accomplish this feat.  Though lacking the fanfare and the following of the President and Vice President whom I’d met earlier, these two women were part of a spiritual legacy that far out-shone any heads of state. 

As I move toward our last day in this small country, I have a new perspective on being a “big ship” when I stand next to these spiritual giants. 

To see fabulous photos Randy took in Palau, click here.