Pot Belly Potential
Recently my mom was waiting in a lobby with our youngest, Cade. An older man sat on a bench nearby. He looked to be about eighty years old and had a huge pot belly. Without warning, Cade wandered over to the man, rested a hand on his protruding stomach, and looked up into his weathered face.
"Oh, no," panicked my mom, realizing that Cade was about to say something. Cade's candor is not always extremely complimentary. Mom braced herself, cringed, and prepared to move in with disaster relief. But rather than asking if the man had swallowed a watermelon or was pregnant, Cade looked earnestly up into the silver framed face and asked, "Are you a.... soccer coach??!"
I wonder how long it had been since this man had been asked such a question. Ten years? Twenty? To Cade, the possibility of him blowing a whistle and answering to 'coach' was in no way diminished by his wrinkly skin, gray hair, or pot belly. Since I'm beginning to collect all three of these, this sort of time defying optimism is invigorating!
I know that someday soon, Cade will stop asking great grandpas if they coach soccer. Just like Sarah stopped asking if God would give her a child. But my life coach, Jesus, will never put age limits on my game.