Fixing Things
October 6, 2011
Leaders of schools and school sports have rarely been asked to do more with less than is demanded of them today. Their plight has brought back to my memory that many years ago, a pastor from North Carolina, Stephen M. Crotts, told this story – one that I’ve kept in my files, and in my heart, ever since. He said:
I started my ministry in Charlotte County, Virginia. And there was a deacon in the church there named Harvey Milton who ran a seed and feed store in Drakes Branch. Harvey and his wife Margaret sort of adopted me and helped me along during those first tentative years of the ministry.
I remember one day after I’d been there nearly three years. I was struggling with trying to do too much, trying to keep everybody happy, trying to fix all the hurts.
I stopped by to see Harvey at his business and found him hunched over the back door replacing a broken hinge.
“What are you doing?” I politely inquired.
“Well, Stephen,” Harvey intoned, “there are four kinds of broken things in this world. There are those things that are broken that if you just leave them alone they’ll fix themselves. Then there are those things that are broken that are none of my business. It’s up to somebody else to fix it. Then there are those things that are broken that only God can fix. And finally, there are those things that are broken that can be fixed and it’s my job to do it. And this door is one of them. And that’s what I’m doing . . . fixing this door.”
Stephen finished by saying this: “When urgent calls, opportunities, pressure, criticism and thoughts of all I could be doing come, those words help me sort my duty.”
Perhaps those words will help you too.
Attitude Adjustment
January 12, 2016
As an everyday, every hour observer of what’s happening to school sports and within school sports, I can get into a negative rut.
But if I step back, and then step out to a local school event – especially at the subvarsity level – my attitude changes. This is where I get a “fix.” This is where I discover the antidote for creeping cynicism.
Here I see coaches teaching, more than screaming. Here is where I watch an official not only make a call but explain it to the participant. Here is where I see athletes smile. And I do too.
Many years ago my son told me how much more he liked coaching at the middle school level than at the high school level. At the younger level, appreciative parents saw him as the one tapping into new talents. At the higher level, overbearing parents said he was missing or misusing their child’s talent.
The subvarsity level – the arena of discovery and development – is underappreciated. In fact, it is often where the best of what we call “educational athletics” occurs.