What do you call someone who stands on the sidelines at a kids’ soccer field, yelling encouragement to the players and wincing every time someone gets flattened? She’s the person who holds sweatshirts when the kids start to warm up, and hands when someone gets hurt and tears are shed. The one who steps in when someone picks a fight, ready to lecture the instigator and pick up the underdog.
Soccer mom.
Oh, boy. How did this happen?
This has been the month of stepping into unexpected roles for me. We’re living in the beautiful Ocean View community, about an hour from Cape Town, South Africa. We’re working with Kingdom Sports Ministry, which focuses and mentoring youth and sharing about Jesus through sports.
Our first week here was spent running a week-long sports camp for the kids in our community while they were on break from school. It was a little overwhelming at first: 40-50 wild, exuberant kids who, with a few exceptions, really didn’t listen to us at first. We rotated through sports and Bible school activities with varied levels of success. Fights were a frequent occurrence, and some days I felt like all I did was pull kicking, hitting kids off of each other. I spent one afternoon trying to reason with a cute 4-year-old named Jamie, whose favorite threat when I stopped him from running around and hitting the other boys was some combination of “I’m going to bite/kick/scratch/punch you.”
We quickly learned that although all of the kids speak fluent English, our real communication was going to be through soccer. It doesn’t matter what activity we started with these kids, they always wanted soccer more. As each day went by they listened to us a little more, and I enjoyed them more each day. As soon as I got used to how many of them there are, and how much energy they have, I settled in and started to see how hilarious and fun they are to be around.
The next week the kids were back in school, so we headed to the field to play in the afternoons. We only had about an hour with them, so we would read them a Bible story before letting them play a game of soccer. That first session I powered through the story of the Good Samaritan, choosing to focus on the 3 kids sitting quietly in front of me rather than the 20 running wildly around us or leaping onto my back as I read.
Fast forward to a few days later, and suddenly there were more kids waiting for a second story than there were asking for a soccer ball. I also noticed that we weren’t having to break up as many fights. Normally they harassed us for soccer ball every two seconds, so I knew we had them when one day I told them they could start a soccer game, and only two of them were willing to leave their coloring to play. Victory!
I work with the four to eleven year olds here. We would separate them into teams for the soccer games, with my team and me serving as referee and coaches. Here’s where the difficult part was for me; I’ve never played soccer a day in my life outside of the street games we played in Guatemala. I have no idea what the rules are. Zach was our referee, since he actually knows how to play soccer, and I suddenly found myself a very under-educated soccer coach.
This is where I really fell in love with the kids. It took them about thirty seconds to figure out that their “coach” knew nothing about soccer. They called me out on it repeatedly. On one occasion I actually had to be the ref, and they kept running over, arguing and wanting me to make calls on plays that I usually hadn’t even noticed. Not to mention I didn’t know any of the terms they were throwing at me. My usual response was, “Soccer’s supposed to be fun. Stop arguing and go play!” They would look at me in disbelief, then finally wander back onto the field when they realized that really was my final answer. I would lose track of how many players I had because the boys liked to switch teams mid-game, so I would call time outs just so I could figure out who was on my team. The crazy thing is, they still loved me! I had to miss part of our session one day to take care of team business, and soccer was in full swing when I got there. As soon as I walked up some of my boys from the day before ran up and asked if I was still their coach. Then they called a huddle and called me over, saying, “Coach, we need you!” How can you not love that?
This past week we have been assigned to other ministry, but every day when we get back you can find me out in the field hanging out with my kids. One of the hardest kids for me the first week is now the one who runs the length of the field every day, yelling my name, so that he can launch himself into my arms. The one who wouldn’t crack a smile lounges in my lap and giggles when I tease him. My team and host worry that I’m going to wear myself out because I’m not resting, but the truth is that being there for those kids every afternoon is what fills me up.
I still don’t know anything about soccer, but I guess I don’t really need to. My rules for the game are simple: #1. Everyone gets to play, even the little ones who aren’t very good #2. If you fight, you sit out #3. If you cuss out another player, you do push-ups. If you do it again, you sit out. Seeing them treat each other just a little better than they did three weeks ago may seem like a small victory, but it’s still encouraging.
The other day I was hanging one of my stick-tights, Keano, upside down because that’s his favorite games to play with me. I asked him what he would do if I just dropped him with no warning, and he didn’t even hesitate before saying, “You would never drop me.” He’s right, of course. I’m in deep with these kids. My team gives me a hard time because I talk about “my kids” so much. They say I brag about them like only a proud mom would. I tell stories about their antics at dinner, and get excited when I see attitude adjustment in the challenging ones. I let them pile into my lap for story time, hold their warm clothes while they play, and give them piggyback rides on the way home.
I may have failed as a soccer coach, but I’m starting to act frighteningly like a soccer mom. Sometimes I can’t believe what God is changing in me through the Race, but at this point I just go with it.
