Love is Worth Fighting For

      On this Sunday afternoon in late October the steady bounce of the basketball is heard from the driveway as Lydia practices her bank shot. Her Dad's cheers reverberate of the patio window. Meanwhile, I sit at the table trying to put words to page. As I hear them playing I start to see a memory coming back into view from long ago.

     My mother is hunched over dribbling the ball in the tie breaking game of 2 on 2 Basketball, Parents versus the Boys. Quickly she cuts down center court to make a shot, but she is blocked by Dave, my oldest brother. He quickly dribbles the ball between his legs and passes it to Mark who is ready to go in for a lay up. Swoosh! The basketball hits the back board just right. “Score!” the Boys called out victoriously.

“Score is 20 to 24, Boys are ahead but Parents still are in the game and have the ball,” Dad reports like a sports commentator as he passes the ball to Mom.

    She gets down low and fakes right before taking a swift turn left, this time successfully making a three point shot!” The Boys stand in proud amazement. “Way to go Mom!” they say in admiration.

“Score is now 24 to 23, Boys have the ball and it is now down to the wire, as the first to 25 points wins it all,” Dad reports.

    Mark dribbles the ball with skill for an eighth grader. With a confident smile on his face that pronounces the dimple in his right cheek, he looks for David.  He is weaving between a fierce Mom and Dad team that believe they could whip these Boys. David’s arms are reaching for the expected pass but Mark decides to dribble his way to the basket. Miss calculating the heavy defense from Mom she suddenly faces him down. With a sturdy stance she blocks him and then tries to steal the ball. With quick footing he pivots past her and jump turns to make the shot. They all watch as the ball hits the backboard and falls through the hoop.

     The boys let out a triumphant cheer as Mom and Dad congratulate them on the winning point. Mom’s face still bright red from the scrimmage leads the way to the house for some much needed hydration.  As they gather around the table the boys recount their Michael Jordan like moves. Dad interjects in exaggerated detail Mom’s pro-like three point shot. They all laugh and mimic mom’s girlish moves. She acts offended, but really she is happy to connect with her men.

    It is not easy to connect with your family as they grow older. But in this memory I see her victory, she is fighting for love. Her growing sons need to know that their mom still wants to get in the dirt with them, and with all of her strength she plays to make the point.

     As a parent I start to realize just how great an effort this Parenthood thing is. Even if I am tired, my children’s needs send off internal alarms. As they grow and become harder to talk to, I have to try new ways to express my love. But as I sit at the table writing out my thoughts, the memory of my red faced mother reminds me that it is all worth it.

      The thing that matters more than possessions or success. The thing that touches deeper than promotion or fame is being loved and truly known. This is the heart of family. Somehow in the busyness of life I can forget that. In the temptation to be self-focused I can even dismiss it, but it doesn’t change this truth. We need each other.

     Right now I have to wrap this up because its my turn to play PIG with Lydia. I rarely ever win, but I want to continue the tradition my mom modeled for me. Love is worth the fight and it scores much higher than the winning shot.