Years Gone By

Years Gone By
You gave me my first full-time job and believed in me while I was still unproven.
You taught me how to run a business.
You trusted me enough to promote and market that business.
You showed me how to leave my heart on the tennis court.
You laughed with me; you cried with me.
You held me accountable for my own happiness.
You promised me that when I had kids I'd understand what's really important in life.
I promised you I'd never give up on myself.
From our first business meeting at Howell's Cafe to the last goodbye in your hospital bed,
As the years go by, who you were remains to me.

Respect at the All-England Club

When I was ten, Wimbledon was the dream. More than any other tennis major, I wanted to play on Center Court at the All-Englad Club. I had only played on one grass court my entire childhood, but still I knew a good thing when I saw it. My tennis idol, Pete Sampras won 7 of his 14 grand slam titles at Wimbledon.  Pete’s 1996 five-set gut-wrencher against Alex Correja at the U.S. Open quarterfinal is my most memorable of his professional matches,but it’s the Sampras clad in all-white that sticks in my mind. There is just something about the grass court championship that seems a little heavenly. It seems a little out of place, in a good way, in this unsettling world. Wimbledon is the most prestigious and oldest tournamant in the sport. Perhaps it is the dress code that evokes images of heaven. Or, it could be the royal purple color that stands next to the deep green.  Usually, there are “royals” in the stands too. Maybe it’s the stadium delicacies that the tournament has become so famous for serving spectators that seems too good to be true. Where else can you go to get a healthy and unique stadium staple, strawberries and cream, than in England? The men who enter the Wimbledon draw are dubbed “gentlemen”. Where else do you see that in sport? Wimbledon is special indeed, and playing there must be invigorating and pristine.

In light of all the recent events that are taking place in the United States and abroad, I think what I love most about this lawn championship is the respect it upholds. The players show respect for the game and for each other when they step out onto the grass. Angelique Kerber lost a two-set women’s championship final yesterday to Serena Williams. Even in her defeat, Kerber sent out a congratulatory tweet to her opponent.  Williams notched an historic 22^nd major with the victory over the fourth seeded German. Serena has dominated women’s tennis for decades, and yet winning at Wimbledon still seems like such a prestigious honor for the veteran player. The tournament commands respect in ways that make me turn my head from the tragedies of our nation to the smaller world of tennis. I used to dream of swinging my Wilson racquet on Center Court, yes. But even more than that, I used to imagine a world where we showed respect for all people, where all lives mattered.

As the Rudyard Kipling quote that sits above the player’s entrance to Center Court reads:
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster, and treat those two imposters just the same..."

Let us treat everyone with the same respect we expect to be given. Let us embrace our sameness more than ever. Let us share in victory—because when all is said and done, we all win if we stick together and remember Him who created us. I hope you enjoy breakfast at Wimbledon on this beautiful July Sunday, where the beloved Brit, Andy Murray takes on first time finalist, Canadian Milos Raonic. Expect greatness. Expect sportsmanship. Expect respect.

Waiting to Begin

“I’ll take a thousand knocks…”

There are some times when waiting is practical, when it makes sense to hold off. I wouldn’t go out and buy a new wardrobe if I was struggling to pay rent. Often, waiting is more than worth the while. Sports fans in the city of Cleveland know this feeling. Chicago Cubs fans must be anticipating an end to their waiting, with the notion of a championship ball club being tossed around the past few years. It sometimes makes sense to wait for direction. You cannot see something through until you are directed how to begin. The waiting may seem like forever but usually results in a more successful outcome. Perhaps you are seeking answers today. Perhaps you are waiting to begin a new job, waiting on test results, waiting to be heard by God.

Today officially kicks off the summer and my favorite season of the year. I could write endlessly about the sights, sounds and tastes of summer but this post is about how summer makes me feel. Six years ago, my tennis partner Melissa and I would schedule play dates throughout the sweltering summer months. She was a school teacher and naturally had summers “off”. I was a full-time worker and part-time student, with few free hours to spare. I was going to graduate school year-round but somehow made time to hit the courts when I could. Melissa and I usually played tennis at the next town over because the courts were well-kept and there were more of them than the local courts offered. I would always arrive before her and wait in my car with the AC blasting and my favorite songs on the stereo. In those moments, I was waiting to begin a new tennis match. During my car waiting times, I also used to pray silently. The moment seemed to call for a spiritual reflection and peace. I often go back to these prayers and recall how I was immersed in God’s presence. All the prayers and dreams I held back then were stored away in God’s ears. It was in my waiting that I most felt Him near. There was without a doubt no question in my mind and heart that our Lord was present. The only thing I can compare it to now is going into labor. I knew I was in labor the moment in began. When you feel God’s presence, there is no doubt. To me, this is what summer embodies. The rising temperatures make me feel more alive. It is in the summer that I feel more at peace with myself. Even today, now that most of my prior prayers have been answered in one way or another, I am always waiting for the summer to begin.

“..and wait while you make up your mind”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZirwbOe3q8

Still Standing

Still Standing

"There's a dead end to my left, there's a burning bush to my right"

As I get older, I find that time stops standing still. When I turned sixteen and my dad taught me how to drive, we used to ride around the high school parking lot as practice for the highway (perhaps not the best way to practice going 65 mph on the NJ Turnpike). We'd pass the tennis courts and I would think to myself how cool it would be to drive myself to and from tennis practice each day in the Fall. It seemed like it took me forever to get my license. I waited 16 years for that document!
My birthday used to be a big event, sometimes even momentous. In 1998, the Yankees' David Wells pitched a perfect game on my birthday. The memory of that game is vivid in my mind as time seemed to stand still for nine innings. Years later, Wells handed me a baseball with his left hand as he exiting the Yankee bullpen. I stood motionless, speechless and stupefied in Monument Park as jealous onlookers stared at the scene. It felt like something out of a movie, only I wasn't able to watch it on screen. On my birthday in 2000, the series finale of my favorite TV show, Beverly Hills, 90210, aired. I savored every minute of the final show. I feel like I had so much time to waste back then. When would I be old enough to experience "real world" situations? (As it turns out, 90210 is nothing like the real world).
What a difference a year makes. What a difference two years makes. Two years ago on my birthday, I was meeting my mother-in-law and father-in-law for the first time. Today, I am raising their first grandbaby. Last year, I was recovering from surgery, laying in bed with a box of cookies and 90210 reruns. My husband and I were newlyweds, a family of two. I waited 30 years to meet the perfect man! Today our world not only centers around each other, but our adorable baby boy.
I spent most of my college birthdays studying and sitting for final exams. The semester would drag on for months only to end abruptly in a challenging 30 question multiple choice test.
I pass by a tennis court each day I go to work. There is never a soul around, never anyone playing on the lonely red court. It's a private neighborhood and seems like a privilege to start a match on their lone court. I wonder how many people have played there. I wonder where those people are today. Does time stand still for them? Does it stand still for anybody my age?
I can't predict what will happen this year. I can anticipate and speculate. I can pray and hope. I know my son will turn one in February and there will be a new face in the White house. I will probably make some new friends and lose touch with some of the old. And by this time next year, I will be ready to say hello to another birth year. The thing about birthdays is, it never matters where you are in life. It's one day out of the entire year to stand still.

"Was that you passing me by?"

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qak_RGVERbc

Telling

“Some things you just don’t question”

When I started playing tennis, there were some things I wish somebody would have told me about the game. Coaches told me I would need to stay in shape, eat well and practice hard. Those were easily assumed but it helped to hear them repeated on a regular basis. Friends told me it would be hard work and I would have to sacrifice many other after-school activities in order to join the tennis team. I didn’t mind missing out on social hour and knew the challenge of tennis was what mattered most to me at the time. My parents told me they were continually on my side of the court even though they were tennis novices themselves. They informed me I would need to take lessons and learn from other people. I understood the requirements needed to succeed in a game where my family could only provide basic instruction and moral support. Tennis is a major part of my life and always will be. Growing up with the game has fulfilled many of my inner hopes. Matches have shaped my personality, helped build endurance and unveiled unknown strength. But what nobody told me about tennis when I started playing is that I would be unable to stop wanting more of it.

I recently gave birth to our first born son. Everyone and their mother had advice for me during the nine months I carried the baby. Despite the variety of advice and well-meaning tips from other parents, I was assured this whole mother thing would take its course and I would learn what worked for me. The basics of parenting are, in a way, similar to learning a new sport. You must practice, work hard and stay in good health. You need stamina and strength. Parenting requires patience every day. The ball doesn’t always go over the net, and babies don’t always cooperate as we hope. When I was pregnant, I was told I would forget the morning sickness and the labor pains. They were right; I already do. People told me it would all be worth it—the waiting and carrying a baby for three-fourths of the year. I can say it was well worth the wait. Other parents told me I should expect to be up all night and without sleep. That is very much the truth, I now know. Toward the end of my pregnancy, friends told me I would miss being pregnant. I do miss him rolling and kicking in my stomach. I miss the closeness I once felt to someone I never met, but having my son in my arms is unlike any other experience in my life. The moment I held him for that very first time, I cried along with him. I knew right then nothing was going to stop me from loving this boy. Nobody told me I would be unable to stop wanting more of him—wanting to hold him and care for him. I look at him so often he must think I’m nuts. I can hardly believe this little precious boy is my baby. Nobody told me I would have more stamina and adrenaline than any tennis match I’ve played. The physical act of having a baby is grueling and demanding, but never before that had I felt the power of what my body could endure. Not even on the tennis court has that type of empowerment ensued for me.

There are many comparisons between becoming a parent and the game of tennis. The most obvious ones are the highs and lows and the back and forth exchanges. Parenting is a match in itself, one lengthy score count that will matter substantially in the end. The most notable comparison I’ve found between my favorite game and being a mother is that I don’t want to leave the match. No matter how much I play tennis, I always come back for more. This feeling is only amplified now that I have a son---I want to be with him more and more each day. I will never have enough love for him, and nothing can compare to that feeling.

“I think I dreamed you into life”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DZqFK4dcl2Q