My son recently signed up for an all-week hockey clinic this summer for three hours each day. He’s seven-years-old, and a handful of people in my life questioned whether or not he might be too young for such an intense class.

When my husband first brought it up, I have to admit, I asked myself the same question. Was he too young? Would it be too much for him? I tried to dismiss my worries, because he’d just spent the last eight Saturdays at a Learn to Skate & Play class with the same coaches and many of the same kids. The coaches were supportive, encouraging and generally awesome. They made it so much fun for the kids.

Back when we signed him up for the Learn to Skate & Play, I thought there would be other kids in the class who couldn’t actually skate yet. Wrong. Let’s just say, I knew Mainers liked their hockey, but I didn’t realize these kids were born skating. And not just in the arena, they flood the parks in the winter here. How’s that for some dedication?

During the 8-week class, Jasper was the only kid who couldn’t skate. At all. He used a skating walker, and while he missed out on some of the drills, he had a blast.

Jasper has always been on his own timeline for things. He just turned seven. When we moved to Maine in November he wasn’t reading; he could barely recognize any sight words. When he started reading in January, it was like he went from a complete stall to a gallop.

He’s always said to me he never wanted to be on a sports team. So, this winter, when he asked to play hockey, we said, “Sure.” I had a feeling he was interested because Greg, my husband, plays, and a few boys in his class play.

In between when the 8-week class ended and his all-week clinic began, we got him skating lessons with one of the coaches, so when he started the all-week clinic, he could skate without the walker, and gosh did it ease my mind to see him become more included with the other kids.

Even with his new skating ability, he was still the worst one on the ice. Was he too young? I still wondered. Half the kids on the ice were smaller than Jasper, but none of them struggled as much.

I kept reminding myself he was brand new, but it was still difficult to watch him be the worst, not because I care if he’s the best, but because whenever we are faced with watching our kids struggle, it hurts. Every day ones or momentous ones, it hurts a parent’s heart to watch.

I don’t care if my kids are ever star athletes. But I’ve always hoped they’d do team sports at some point. I’m probably the least competitive person on the planet, I don’t have hard core allegiances to any team, and I’m uncoordinated when it comes to most sports.

Unless it involves swimming. From about age eight all the way through college, I was on a swim team. I was never the fastest on any team, never the most competitive or the star. But to this day, my swim team memories are some of my best memories, ever.
To be a member of a team means you have to learn how to communicate and work together cohesively towards a shared goal. You work your butt off and build strong relationships with your teammates in the process.

Even in swimming, which includes many individual races, there are relays which require a connection, a communication between the members. And that’s just for race day. I never would have made it through practices if it weren’t for my teammates. In college, I never would have stayed on the team if it weren’t for my teammates. Practice was early, practice was long, practice was brutal. The amazing people kept me swimming. I will cherish those relationships forever.

I want my kids to have the kinds of connections I had through swimming. I want them to have fun, feel good about themselves and make friends.

But there’s so much more they can gain, isn’t there? How to communicate with different types of people. How to encourage and help others, how to learn from others. What it feels like to win, what it feels like to lose, and how to handle both of those gracefully.

Jasper struggled all week. One day he even crawled off the ice, although that had more to do with his tendency toward the dramatic as he was laughing and smiling at me while he did it. He struggled to skate, to skate backwards, to keep his ankles upright, to hold his stick the correct way. He fell and had to figure out how to get back up. He navigated how to talk to the older kids, how to fit in.

Yes, it hurt to watch my son struggle, but therein lies an important question? Do we want our kids to struggle? Of course not.

But also, yes. Yes we do.

Not the life and death struggles that come with fighting for that next breath, literally.

But striving to acquire a new talent, to communicate with others, to do things outside their comfort zone. Yes, I want my kids to experience these difficult things, because to pursue challenges and stick with them, is to reap great rewards, and develop skills they can apply to life.

Jasper was exhausted, and he was so sweaty. But oh! The look of pure joy on that kid’s face at the end of every day!

Jasper didn’t just love the game, he loved the connections he made with the coaches and other kids. They all encouraged my son, they passed the puck to him, they lifted him up when he fell. They even laughed at his jokes in the locker room. I’m pretty sure the people Jasper met that week cemented his love for the game.

But these kids more than just made it fun for him, they taught him a very valuable lesson, that yes, it takes a lot of hard work and dedication to play hockey, but being part of team like that can be so worth it. My husband and I tell our kids this regularly, that in order to be good at something, you have to work hard, but Jasper’s hockey clinic showed him. I watched, during the week, as this understanding came over my son. No, he was definitely not too young to learn this lesson.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Sara Ohlin

Puget Sound based writer, Sara Ohlin is a mom, wannabe photographer, obsessive reader, ridiculous foodie, and the author of the upcoming contemporary romance novels, Handling the Rancher and Salvaging Love. You can find her essays at Anderbo.com, Feminine Collective, Mothers Always Write, Her View from Home, and in anthologies such as Are We Feeling Better Yet? Women Speak about Healthcare in America, and Take Care: Tales, Tips, & Love from Women Caregivers. Find her at www.saraohlin.com

This Time In the Passenger Seat is Precious

In: Kids, Motherhood, Teen
Teen driver with parent in passenger seat

When you’re parenting preteens and teens, it sometimes feels like you are an unpaid Uber driver. It can be a thankless job. During busy seasons, I spend 80 percent of my evenings driving, parking, dropping off, picking up, sitting in traffic, running errands, waiting in drive-thru lines. I say things like buckle your seat belt, turn that music down a little bit, take your trash inside, stop yelling—we are in the car, keep your hands to yourself, don’t make me turn this car around, get your feet off the back of the seat, this car is not a trash can,...

Keep Reading

So God Made My Daughter a Wrestler

In: Kids, Motherhood
Young female wrestler wearing mouth guard and wrestling singlet

God made my girl a wrestler. Gosh, those are words I would never have thought I would say or be so insanely proud to share with you. But I am. I know with 100 percent certainty and overwhelming pride that God made my girl a wrestler. But it’s been a journey. Probably one that started in the spring of 2010 when I was pregnant with my first baby and having the 20-week anatomy ultrasound. I remember hearing the word “girl” and squealing. I was over the moon excited—all I could think about were hair bows and cute outfits. And so...

Keep Reading

A Big Family Can Mean Big Feelings

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Family with many kids holding hands on beach

I’m a mother of six. Some are biological, and some are adopted. I homeschool most of them. I’m a “trauma momma” with my own mental health struggles. My husband and I together are raising children who have their own mental illnesses and special needs. Not all of them, but many of them. I battle thoughts of anxiety and OCD daily. I exercise, eat decently, take meds and supplements, yet I still have to go to battle. The new year has started slow and steady. Our younger kids who are going to public school are doing great in their classes and...

Keep Reading

You May Be a Big Brother, but You’ll Always Be My Baby

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother with young son, color photo

It seems like yesterday we were bringing you home from the hospital. Back then, we were new parents, clueless but full of love—a love that words can hardly explain. I can vividly recall holding you in my arms, rocking you in the cutest nursery, and singing sweet lullabies, just like yesterday. I can picture those times when you were teeny-tiny, doing tummy time, and how proud I was of you for lifting your head. And oh, the happiness on your face when “Baby Shark” played over and over—that song always made you smile! We made sure to capture your growth...

Keep Reading

“It Looks and Tastes Like Candy.” Mom Shares Warning about THC Gummies All Parents Need to Hear

In: Kids, Living, Teen
Hand holding bottle of THC gummies

What Aimee Larsen first thought was a stomach bug turned out to be something much more terrifying for her young son. Her 9-year-old woke up one day last week seeming “lethargic, barely able to stand or speak,” his mom shared in a Facebook post. At first, she assumed he had a virus, but something about his behavior just didn’t seem right. She called an ambulance and asked her older sons if their brother might have gotten into something, like cough syrup or another over-the-counter medicine. Their answer? “Yeah, THC gummies.” THC gummies are an edible form of cannabis that contain...

Keep Reading

My Child with Special Needs Made His Own Way in His Own Time

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hand walking across street

I want to tell you the story of a little boy who came to live with me when he was three years old. Some of you may find this story familiar in your own life. Your little boy or girl may have grown inside you and shares your DNA or maybe they came into your life much older than three. This little boy, this special child, my precious gift has special needs. Just five short years ago, he was a bit mean and angry, he said few understandable words, and there was a lot about this world he didn’t understand. Unless...

Keep Reading

Dear Daughter as You Grow into Yourself

In: Kids, Motherhood, Tween
Girl in hat and dress-up clothes, color photo

My daughter, I watched you stand in front of the mirror, turning your body left and right. Your skirt was too big and your top on backward. Your bright blue eyeshadow reached your eyebrows and bold red blush went up to your ears. You didn’t care. I watched you marvel at your body, feeling completely at ease in your skin. You turned and admired yourself with pride. You don’t see imperfections. You don’t see things you are lacking. You see goodness. You see strength. RELATED: Daughter, When You Look in the Mirror, This is What I Hope You See I’m...

Keep Reading

Organized Sports Aren’t Everything

In: Kids, Motherhood
Young girl with Alpaca, color photo

Today I watched my little girl walk an alpaca. His name is Captain. Captain is her favorite. He’s my favorite too. I met his owner on Instagram of all places. She thought I was in college; I thought she was a middle-aged woman. Turns out, she is in high school, and I am a middle-aged woman. This random meeting led to a blessing. We call it “llama lessons.” We take llama lessons every other week. It’s an hour away on the cutest hobby farm. Our “teacher” is Flora, who boards her llamas at the alpaca farm. She wants to teach...

Keep Reading

I Had to Learn to Say “I’m Sorry” to My Kids

In: Kids, Motherhood, Teen, Tween
Mom hugs tween daughter

My two oldest kiddos are at the front end of their teen years. I remember that time in my own life. I was loud, somewhat dramatic, I let my hormones control me, and I never—ever—apologized. This last part was because no one ever really taught me the value of apology or relationship repair. Now, I could do some parent blaming here but let’s be real, if you were a kid whose formative years were scattered between the late ’80s and early ’90s, did you get apologies from your parents? If so, count that blessing! Most parents were still living with...

Keep Reading

5 Things Your Child’s Kindergarten Teacher Wants You To Know

In: Kids, Motherhood
Child raising hand in kindergarten class

I am a teacher. I have committed my life to teaching children. Of course, before I began this career, I had visions of standing in front of a group of eager-eyed children and elaborating on history, science, and math lessons. I couldn’t wait to see the “lightbulb” moments when students finally understood a reading passage or wrote their first paper. And then I had my first day. Children are not cut out of a textbook (shocking, I know) but as a young 23-year-old, it knocked me right off my feet. I was thrown into the lion’s den, better known as...

Keep Reading