Be a bridge, not a roadblock

 Our son began playing soccer at the age of 4. I'd like to say it was love at first sight (it wasn't).

During the ensuing years, he also played basketball and baseball and football (and video games because, you know, he's a kid). When he started seventh grade, we allowed him to begin playing tackle football. And when high school came around, he had to choose between soccer and football since our state offers both sports during the fall season.

He chose football.

His dad played football for the Spoofhounds. Jon was the quarterback of the school's first team state championship in the sport. So I got it. Gabe wanted to be a part of the tradition, share that with his dad. More importantly, Gabe loved playing the game.

And I supported him every step of the way. Even in the ER after a bad tackle shattered his collarbone his freshman year.

When a genetic, degenerative hip condition sidelined him just a few games into his sophomore season, I supported his desire to start six months of rehab work so he'd be ready for summer conditioning.

And he was. He worked so hard to be physically ready for June. He'd put on weight and muscle for his linebacker position.

Summer came, and he changed. I know some of that was due to COVID and the pandemic and everything our kids and our society had been through.

But something else was going on. Two seasons with injuries had hampered his development, and he knew he had too much catching up to do.

And, honestly, his heart just wasn't in it anymore.

So we had a heart-to-heart. He opted to quit football, and we supported that decision. He went to his coach and told him he was done. The coach was amazingly supportive and understanding. Told our son that the door was always open if he changed his mind down the road.

The weight of the world lifted from his shoulders. He started his junior year much like the easy going, happy kid we'd loved for years but had been missing the past few months.

Then the soccer team learned he wasn't playing football and talked him into joining them. I don't think it took much convincing. He'd played club ball with most of them over the years, so it was more like he was returning to his roots than diving into a new experience. Sure, he looked like the former linebacker he was out there, but he was much happier.

The team went onto its best season in school history, ending up with third place at the state tournament.

Here we are, a year later and he's a senior. He's 30 pounds lighter, back to his soccer weight and ready for the season to start. He's too-excited-to-sleep kinda ready.

I'm thankful to his teammates and to their families for welcoming Gabe back with open arms. They've always been "his people." And I'm thankful for this kid. He usually plays things close to his vest and isn't big on sharing feelings. He knew my husband would be crushed (he was), but Gabe found the courage to tell us he needed to make a change. And his dad became the biggest soccer fan on the planet.

We don't always listen to our kids. Teenagers are especially difficult because they think they can solve all problems on their own. So when they reach out, reach back. They have enough tough decisions to make at this age. Parents need to be a bridge, not a roadblock.