Baseball Season


*Yes, this has been posted before during the month of April.  But, it’s why I’m here in the first place.  The reason I began writing long ago.  Please take a second glance to think of little ones who need a chance.  Thank you.

Baseball Season!  The time of year when Little League games will soon begin!  I remember my husband buckling seatbelts around waists of toothless grins before closing the door to our minivan.  It was “Sign-Up Day,” at our county Athletic Association.

I’d like to say that playing sports isn’t any different for children living with Chronic Conditions.  Turns out, anything is possible with a positive attitude, determination, planning and a few adjustments.

In a small building on the busiest street in town, folding tables were set in a room of peeling paint.  At first glance, it looked as though a country wedding was about to begin.  Instead, there was a cardboard box of printed paper surrounded by an unspoken order.  Tiny boxes needed be checked under fluorescent lights of bright white.  Names and addresses and ages too, were to be added in lines of blue.

Days later, an official looking letter arrived.  Like the first day of school, it listed an assigned teacher (coach) together with a classroom (team).  My boys delighted in this.  Especially the name of their teams!  Raptors, Thunder, or Boys of Wonder?   It didn’t matter.  A Home Run had already been hit within their imaginations….

That first season started only weeks after my oldest was diagnosed with diabetes.  Mothers and others covered their mouths, back then.  They whispered behind my back, “Was it possible to play with his condition,” someone asked?  Yes, my son could play baseball!   I would figure out a way.  He was no different from any other little boy…..Besides, he was good with the ball and a quick runner.  He could steal bases faster than any other six-year-old on his team.   His coaches nicknamed him, “Jet.”   Once he started running, he didn’t stop.  This was two years before, Forrest Gump!

I’m not going to lie.  It wasn’t always easy.  Adrenalin made my boy’s blood sugar drop like the pitcher’s ball at home plate.   Oftentimes, I’d dash to the dug-out to prick his finger, checking a single drop of blood to see if his number was “low.”  If so, he’d drink a can of juice or eat some food brought from home.  Sometimes both.  Then off he’d go, out into the field of green to play and run and have some fun.  Or, maybe not.

My youngest son who lived with asthma, had obstacles too playing sports.  Exercise was a huge asthma trigger for him.  He used a preventive inhaler before each game.  Even at a young age, he was still a big ‘little’ guy who slammed the ball far over the fence.  After running around all three bases, he often had to sit out for an inning or more.  Holding his chest, he’d gasp for breath.  Deeply, he’d inhale white powdered medicine from his rescue inhaler.  So difficult for him to wait on the bench while his friends giggled in the dugout while tossing the ball.  Harder still not to breathe….

God taught me many lessons during the years my kids played baseball.  After all, I lived at the ball park from the first game in spring until the last one of summer.  In turn, both of my children learned important lessons too.  Living with Chronic Conditions didn’t stop them from being like any of the other kids on the team.  They simply had to do things a little differently.  Somehow, they found a way.

If your child lives with a chronic condition, do whatever it takes to make their dreams come true.  Encourage them to try.  Ask for help, pray to God and wish upon a star.  If you believe in their dreams, they will too.

 

Jayson Gosselin–Age 6 First Year of Little League

Jay Justin Baseball1

 

 

Justin-Age 7, First Year                               Jayson-Age 9

Jay Justin Baseball2 Jay Justin Baseball3

 

Jay Justin Baseball4  Jayson–Age 16, Freshman High School

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forgiveness


There is another “Chronic Condition” living in this world.  Evil.  From the beginning of life it has slithered silently, tempting us with warm whispers in our ears while baiting puzzled minds.

Recently, I attended church where the pastor’s sermon could have been written for “Me, Myself and I.”  He seemed to look me straight in the eye, while reciting six simple words, “the guts not to fight back.”  The minister was referencing the movie “42, The True Story of an American Legend.”

The above movie is about Jackie Robinson, the first man to break the color barrier in major league baseball.  Mr. Robinson played for the Brooklyn Dodgers, beginning with his rookie season in 1947.  No, I do not in any way compare myself to the late, great Jackie Robinson. Yes, I needed to hear those words that day.  “The guts not to fight back.”   

From the preacher’s polished pulpit, a soft-spoken pastoral message spilled slowly throughout each wooden pew.  I was struggling with forgiveness….how to “rise above” someone who had deliberately hurt me without cause or provocation.

The pastor’s sermon helped me realize how important it is to be better than those who wish to harm our hearts and souls.  All of us, no matter how hard it is to forgive others.  If successful, the good in us will shine through for the whole world to see.

Jackie Robinson lived a life of class and honor where he eventually became an American hero.  Although he faced a nation of evil in his time, he rose above to live a life of forgiveness.  This is what people remember today.  This is the light that shines through for Jackie Robinson.

Thank you, Pastor.

Baseball Season


Baseball Season!  The time of year when Little League games will soon begin!  I remember my husband buckling seatbelts around waists of toothless grins before closing the door to our minivan.  It was “Sign-Up Day,” at our county Athletic Association.

I’d like to say that playing sports isn’t any different for children living with chronic conditions.  When my own kids were diagnosed, that was my hope.  Could it be true?   No, I was being defiant.  Wanting my sons to run bases without worry.  Hoping the knowledge in my head wouldn’t break my heart.

In a small building on the busiest street in town, folding tables were set in a room of peeling paint.  At first glance, it looked as though a country wedding was about to begin.  Instead, there was a cardboard box of printed paper surrounded by an unspoken order.  Tiny boxes needed be checked under fluorescent lights of bright white.  Names and addresses and ages too, were to be added in lines of blue.

Days later, an official looking letter arrived.  Like the first day of school, it listed an assigned teacher (coach) together with a classroom (team).  My boys delighted in this.  Especially the name of their teams!  Raptors, Thunder, or Boys of Wonder?   It didn’t matter.  A Home Run had already been hit within their imaginations….

That first season started only weeks after my oldest was diagnosed with diabetes.  Mothers and others covered their mouths, back then.  They whispered behind my back, “Was it possible to play with his condition,” someone asked?  Yes, my son could play baseball!   I would figure out a way.  He was no different from any other little boy…..Besides, he was good with the ball and a quick runner.  He could steal bases faster than any other six-year-old on his team.   His coaches nicknamed him, “Jet.”   Once he started running, he didn’t stop.  Two years before, Forrest Gump!

I’m not going to lie.  It wasn’t always easy.  Adrenalin made my boy’s blood sugar drop like the pitcher’s ball at home plate.   Sometimes, I’d dash off to the dug-out to prick his finger, checking a single drop of blood to see if his number was “low.”  If so, he’d drink a can of juice or eat some food brought from home.  Sometimes both.  Then off he’d go, out into the field of green to play and run and have some fun.

My youngest son who was diagnosed with asthma, had obstacles too, with sports.  Exercise was a huge asthma trigger for him.  He used a preventive inhaler before each game.  Even at a young age, he was still a big little guy who slammed the ball far into the field.  After running around all three bases, he often had to sit out for an inning or more.  Holding his chest, he’d gasp for breath.  Deeply, he’d inhale white powdered medicine from his rescue inhaler.  It was hard for him to sit on the bench while his friends played a game that he loved.  Harder still not to breathe….

God taught me many lessons during the years my kids played baseball.  After all, I lived at the ball park from the first game in spring until the end of summer.  In turn, both of my children learned lessons too.  Living with a chronic condition didn’t stop them from pursuing what they wanted in life.  No matter what, they could always try something new.  Together, they played sports of all kinds.  Somehow, they found a way.  First and foremost, they were kids who happened to live with……….whatever.

If your child lives with a chronic condition, do whatever it takes to make their dreams come true.  Ask for help, pray to God and wish upon a star.  If you believe in their dreams, they will too.

 

Jayson Gosselin–Age 6 First Year of Little League

Jay Justin Baseball1

 

 

Justin-Age 7, First Year                               Jayson-Age 9

Jay Justin Baseball2 Jay Justin Baseball3

 

Jay Justin Baseball4  Jayson–Age 16, Freshman High School