I love to watch the moms in the stands. Because they know. They know the hours that have added up to this moment. They know the tears cried over playing time and missed opportunities. They know the hours spent perfecting skills and practicing the game they love.
But most of all they know it’s their girl out there on the court . . . and there’s nothing they can do.
This moment, it belongs to their daughters. Nothing they can do from their seat in the stands can do anything to impact the outcome of the game. It’s all on their girls.
So they sit or they stand or maybe they pace just beyond the bleachers. They cheer and whisper encouragement to their girls though they can’t be heard. They watch with bated breath and sometimes hide their eyes. They sweat and their hearts race as if they are the ones playing. They silently pray, asking God to be with their girls when they can’t.
Because that’s what moms do. They love, they support, they cheer, they pray, they watch. And they wait—to celebrate with them or build them back up, whichever their girls need. And to tell them they’re proud—so proud—no matter the final score.
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And when the game is over and the gym is silent, they know. They know they’ll never get these moments back, so they store them up in their hearts like they have so many times before as moments became memories. Because that’s what a sports mom does.