Dear Rose,
I know it’s dark. I know it’s scary. You are unsure of what the future holds.You’re only five, your earliest memories shouldn’t be like this. I have so much to tell you and you might not understand it all right now. You might even think I’m crazy. Please, just try to listen.

That horrible man will go away, eventually. Please hang on to your spirit. Mommy will get better. Please keep her laughing. Your brothers will soon be your friends. Please hold on to the fun times. You will get through this stuff.

Now I need to warn you……
You will fall in love, but your heart will get broken (a lot). You will get through school, but it will be very hard. Making friends will be easy, but you’ll lose most of them. The word dad will mean something, but not the way you think. You will go to therapy for help, but it’s the hardest thing you’ve ever done.

But within those things…..
You will be with the man of your dreams. He will find you at the right moment. Your high school graduation is coming. You worked hard and earned it. You will have friends. The few who are true are the only ones you keep. Your dad is not blood, he is the carrier and protector of your heart. Therapy is hard and there’s no other way to put it. Ironically, that’s what makes it work.

So the answers to those questions in your little head right now are…….
His name is Domanic. Buckeye Community Highschool is where. Their names are Bri, Taylor, Caity, and Xah. You will have more than one counselor. You’re a mommy to a little boy. You have your very own home. You’re doing good. You have struggles.

All at the same time…
You are loved. You are strong. You are worthy. You are kind. You are the best version of yourself at the moment. I can’t wait to see all the rest of the versions we become.
Gently,
You at twenty-four <3
Style score- 100%

Dear Coaching Board,

I expected to have to write this letter, oh, twenty or thirty more years from now. Maybe longer! Someone was going to have to pry you and my whistle from my cold, dead hands! I never could have imagined that I’d be writing this letter today. I don’t really remember when I first decided I was going to be a coach- it was just always part of the plan. Teach history and coach basketball. And for eleven years, I did that. But, of course, you know that! Ever since I ripped open that Christmas present fourteen years ago that Dad had so carefully wrapped you in with a shiny new whistle, and a pack of 3X5 cards (because all good coaches use 3X5 cards!), you have been with me through all the practices, late night bus rides, exhilarating victories, and agonizing defeats. You were at my side when during our very first year coaching, we won a District Championship! You were at my side seven years later when we stepped onto the court at my alma mater as a coach, not a player. I remember staring at you in disbelief after my girls won their first playoff game in over a decade. I remember my girls staring at you in confusion because they couldn’t follow my “scribbling”. Do you remember the game when I broke my marker on you because I was trying WAY too hard to make my point? Of course, you do! You were not happy with me that night! You have seen me laugh with my teams, cry with my teams, and shout for (and at) my teams.

But more than those exciting basketball moments, you also witnessed the times I chose to set you aside because one of my girls needed me to stop talking about basketball for a minute. You saw me the day I had to pull one of my starters aside during a big game to say, “Your team needs you on the court, but I will not put you back in this game if you have that attitude again.” You sat on the bench as I told my point guard, “I care more about your health than winning this game, so you better not lie to me.” You were in my hand when I looked at one of my players and said, “You have no reason to be discouraged, you gave more than 100% today, and that’s all the Lord requires of us.” You watched from the sidelines the day my star player ran to me as soon as the buzzer went off and whispered, “I’m with you all the way, Coach.” You were there for every pre and post game huddle that ended with prayer and quoting Colossians 3:23-24. You were always by my side, and I loved you. So why are you packed somewhere in a box in the basement now? Why can’t I bring myself to walk downstairs, find you, and walk onto the court with you again?

Two years have passed since I first put you in that box! How has it been two years since you and I last stepped on to the court together? Two years since I last scribbled ferociously with a blue marker all over your slightly stained white surface during a quick time out. Two years since I dropped you a little too hard on the floor beside my chair when I got excited that my youngest player made a basket! It’s been two whole years since I threw you, again a little too hard, on my chair as I took a brisk step on to the court to yell at one of my girls for making a terrible pass. Two years since I held you firmly in my hands as I confidently followed my girls out of the locker room to face our opponent. Actually, that last part is not completely true. We’d have to go back more than two years to find the last time I was confident walking out of the locker room. You, of all “people”, know that, too. Because that tenth and eleventh year, you stayed inside my coaching bag much more often. I can only imagine how I made you feel. I should never have left you zipped up in that bag, but I felt like I didn’t know how to use you anymore. The confident twenty-two year old Florida coach who won two District Championships and one State Championship with you, was nowhere to be found anymore, and I don’t know how (or if I even want) to find her again.

Did I ever tell you why coaching basketball was always part of “the plan”? Remember all those huddles that ended with prayer? That’s why. Because when I was a young athlete my coaches ended every practice and game with prayer. Because my coaches taught me that loving basketball and pushing to be excellent was important, but it wasn’t the MOST important. Winning was our goal, but it wasn’t THE goal. Because my coaches showed that they loved me, even if I wasn’t the best player on the court, even if I messed up, even if…the ball game wasn’t the most important thing to them. I was. And I knew it. That’s why I wanted to coach. So I could be that coach to a quiet 11 year old who was shocked she even made the team, to a cheerleader turned to basketball player who just wanted to be an encouragement to others, to a 4’11 (and ¾) guard who always tried to play as if she was 10 feet tall, to a quick young 7th grader charged with guarding the other team’s best shooter, to a frustrated 8th grade post player who just wanted to be successful, to a quiet 10th grader who just loved the game and grew into a leader, to a hesitant emotional 9th grader who demanded perfection from herself, to a…well, I guess that’s enough for you to understand. At some point, you were in my hand as I talked to every single one of those girls. You know more than anyone just how much I prayed for, cried over, laughed with, and LOVED my girls- not for their basketball talent- but for WHO they were. That’s why you and I were on that court together.

You have probably figured out by now that this is a goodbye letter. As much as I obviously loved our time together, the world of Christian school sports has changed. We have to be the best no matter what it costs. If the season doesn’t end with a Championship trophy, it wasn’t successful. The attitude our players exhibit on and off the court doesn’t matter, but the win tonight does. Missing church or service opportunities is acceptable, but players better think twice about missing practice. “Better” only applies to the sport, not an athlete’s emotional, social, or spiritual maturity. Watching this change take place over the past several years broke my heart and I still wrestle with an overwhelming sense of grief. Grief for the next generation of athletes who aren’t being taught, as I was, WHO we play for. Grief for the young athletes who aren’t being taught that your attitude and character is more important than your talent and statistics. Grief for the athletes who will grow up believing that their success is determined by a scoreboard. Just…grief. What I wouldn’t give to be a 16 year old kid again, fist confidently in the middle of our team huddle before playing one of our biggest conference rivals, and saying with the rest of my teammates, “Knowing that of the Lord ye shall receive the reward of the inheritance for ye serve the Lord Christ.” What I wouldn’t give to be a 26 year old coach again, holding you confidently in one hand with the other fist confidently in the middle of our team huddle, reciting Colossians 3:23-24 with my team. But that’s all in the past. It’s history. I never could have imagined our time together ending this way, and I don’t know that my heart will ever truly heal from what it lost.

John Wooden once said, “Young people need models, not critics.” I think of my coaches who modeled what a Christ-honoring person looks like. Who, because of that example, had an eternal impact on the girls I later coached. I can’t help but wonder what this new style of Christian school coaching is modeling…and what the result of that will be. That is not a question I am going to get an answer to today, and this “Dear John” goodbye is already longer than I intended. So, thank you. Thank you for the memories. I truly am sorry for leaving you in the basement these last two years. I am sorry the layers of dust will continue to build on your once white surface, but I promise that if the Lord ever calls me back into coaching, you will be the first to know.

Until then, know you are missed, old friend.

“Heartily” for Him,
Coach P

Dear Me,
I grew up in a household where anger was first, love was last. No one nurtured me lovingly. I spent my days in fear. My parents were so wrapped up in their own world it seemed they forgot that parenting is more than just food, shelter, clothes, etc. My biggest fear is becoming anything like them.
My father was not the best. On the outside, he was a teddy bear that the world loved. If you asked anyone, he was overall a good man. The man I knew, however, was terrifying. He drank and did drugs. He also was very abusive towards my mother and I. The things I seen go on between him and my mother no child should ever see. The things he did to me, on the other hand, were far worse. Without going into too much detail, black and blue were colors I was very familiar with. When around outsiders, he was loving, which at that young confused me. I could not tell what was reality. I never knew who to trust. I had a very hard time with things such as making friends, understanding who to ask for help, controlling my emotions, and many other things. He also put me in situations with other adults that had no business being anywhere near me in the ways they were. This caused more issues. Like not understanding boundaries, allowing things to happen to me that were very bad, and other unspeakable things. To some it up, he was my dad, but in reality, he was my nightmare, day in and day out.
My mother is a gentle being. She worked very hard to make sure me and my brothers had everything we could ever need in life. Within that, she lacked in places that are very vital to a child. With everything she went through with my dad, she forgot what it was to be a mother. Or at least to me, anyway. My mom got pregnant with my twin brothers when I was two years old. Sadly, my dad was not happy about this and begged her to get an abortion. When they were born, one of them was ill and almost died. This sent my mother into a rage against my dad for ever wanting an abortion. So when things with my dad got worse, she made it her mission to protect them against anything bad that came from my dad. Sadly, this left me in the dark. I at the very young age of three years old had to learn to protect myself. She would clean up after every mess they made, always alert them if they did something my dad didn’t like, and to always take the fall if he was upset with them. This caused me and my mom to become very distant. I did not feel love and nurtured by her at all.
I just had my first child. He is the sweetest little guy in the world. I could not imagine him going through anything I did as a child. My biggest fear is becoming like my parents. I don’t worry about me becoming like my dad too much. Sadly, I have some of his mental problems, such as the bipolar disorder, depression, and major anxiety. I worry about these things because I could hurt my child with my words or my distance. However, I go to counseling and get treatment for these things, working really hard to ensure I am more than just my mental status. I also fear that overworking or becoming too focused elsewhere might create a distance between my child and me, similar to the distance I experienced with my mother. I don’t plan to do these things, but I am not perfect.
So, to my son, I promise to try. I promise to focus on everything that involves you. I promise to put you first, no matter the situation. I promise to use all I have inside me to ensure you never feel unloved or unprotected. Most importantly, I promise to make sure you never have to question yourself one day the way I’m questioning myself now. I will always make sure you understand what true love is and how to give it back to the word in your own ways. I know I will not always be a perfect mother, but I will do my very best to be the best that I can be because you, my child, hold my heart and soul in the palm of your hands.
Yours truly,
A very nervous momma.
(Style Score 83%)

Dear Pregnancy,
This has been the most intense nine months of my life. I have never grown so much as a person so quickly. From my body, to my relationships, all the way to the way my mind works, you have taught me so much about myself. I won’t lie there has been times when I’ve seriously not liked you, but at the end of this long journey I’ve never been more grateful for an experience more than this one.
At first you were quite a head rush. Everything about you seemed exciting. I told everyone about you. Every person in my life was excited for me. In my mind, I had always wanted this. There was nothing that could break my happy high. I started planning as soon as you arrived. Some could even say I got a little ahead of myself with how quickly I moved as soon as I found out.
Then suddenly there was all the bad. The sickness all day every day. The hatred for all the foods I once loved. The sleepless nights of insomnia. The absolute shame I felt looking into the mirror. The amount of friends I lost. Last but certainly not least, the dread of feeling like there was no way in the world I could ever be a mother.
Slowly but surely, you taught me the reverse of all these things. Like how the sickness was my body starting the creation of my little boy. The fact that losing my favorite foods meant temporarily enjoying all the weird and fun cravings. Even some things I never liked at all! All the sleepless nights made me be so much more appreciative of my rest and how important it is for me, because before I took my rest for granted. I also have a beautiful new outlook on my body image because of you. I grew a whole human! Do you know how insane that is to wrap your head around? I may have a tummy and definitely no thigh gap, but I have the most wonderful little man in the entire world. I also learned that some friends are meant to be left in the past. There are some who are behind closed doors super fake and are not deserving of my love and devotion. There are also some who I had to let go because they were not healthy for me and I would have never seen that without you. Lastly, I was so scared of being a mom. I did not think I had what it takes to be one. Maybe I don’t, but now I know that there’s nothing in the world I would not do for this little guy. I have learned that I am going to make so so so many mistakes and that sometimes my belief in myself is going to shake. That’s okay. This will make me stronger and will help me grow and learn so I can do better for him.
So I guess I’m just trying to say thank you. Thank you for all the bad that I did not understand was all the good. Thank you for teaching me to grow as a person. Thank you for pushing me to learn so much about myself. Thank you for seeking out my genuine friends. Thank you for making my relationship with my partner blossom in new ways I didn’t know to be possible. Most importantly, thank you for my little boy who I can’t wait to watch grow, and learn, and love. Thank you.
Our time seemed long while it was here. When in reality it was quite short. I look forward to visiting you in the future again. I cannot wait to see what else you will teach me then.
Love always,
A first time mom……
(Style Score- 62%)