If you happen to see us in the driveway playing basketball, or board games on the living room floor with our kids, you might think, "oh how sweet, a family that's playing together."
But please know the truth. Our driveway is often a battleground, where soldiers for Christ are being trained. It is not all fun and games as much as we would like it to be. I would love to be able to relax and play a fun game of pick up or horse and smile and laugh and have a good time. But 9 times out of 10, this is not the case. 9/10 times their competitive spirit and pride and the behavior that comes with it requires refinement and demands a parental response that is a lot of hard work. It is hard and ugly and exhausting.
I can't blame them, they have two highly competitive parents.
But here's the thing. I can't just let them win. There's this dance of competitiveness and fairness, fun and seriousness, winning and losing, being hard on them and taking it easy. Not because I need to win or because I feel sorry for them. No, I've already learned not to take myself too seriously, and I learned it way too late. Not because I am mean or because I even want them to perfect their layup or their jumpshot or anything else.
But because I want them to learn to lose with grace. And I would rather them lose a game of horse and break a door hinge today than to lose their good reputation or have a broken marriage later. I want them to learn to control their anger and frustration. I want them to learn integrity, and that relationships are more important than achievement. I want them to learn to have fun and to include others. I want them to learn to delight in the game and in the fellowship, and I want them to know their value is not in their shooting percentage, or their winning percentage, or even in their character, but in their status as sons and daughters.
These games we play could just be for fun. And sometimes they are. But sometimes they are so much more.
