Today is the last day of our spring season. Each year, this is an emotional day for us.
It’s emotional because we say our goodbyes to many young men who are graduating and moving on. This is a bit easier at a junior college than at a university because most graduating sophomores have plans to continue playing baseball while graduating seniors are often leaving an important part of their lives behind. Still, we’ve had two years to watch them grow and mature; we’ve had two years to grow to love them. This year, it’s a little easier as most of our sophomores will be playing on our summer team, so it isn’t “goodbye” just yet.
It’s emotional because years of work come to a close. It isn’t just the hours of practice beginning in August. It’s the hours of recruiting the previous years. The hours of scouting reports. Calculating statistics. Trouble-shooting the struggles. Comforting the broken. Feeding the hungry—physically and spiritually. Regardless of the season record and stats, regardless of the outcome, this day marks a distinct end to one particular phase.
It’s emotional because we never know what will come next. Four years ago, the end of the season led to my boyfriend moving half-way across the country with no coaching job on the horizon. Three years ago, I had every intention of moving half-way across the country to join my fiancé who happened to be applying for other jobs just in case. Two years ago, my husband’s boss was forced to resign, and we were left with nothing but uncertainty; we nearly bought a house in Kansas, but instead, we ended up moving to California instead. One year ago, we intended to stay put but still spent the summer applying for other jobs just in case.
This year might be the most stable—kind of. We have no intention of leaving, but anything can happen. Everything could change. Everything will change. When practice starts again in August, we will be welcoming our first child. In the meantime, we’re considering buying our first house.
One of the most common pieces of advice given to assistant coaches is never buy a house. You never know when your whole world will turn upside down. You never know when one job will fall through, and you’ll be out looking for anything and everything—anywhere and everywhere. So, it’s no surprise that our journey in house shopping has been a roller coaster. We’ve picked it up and pushed it aside more than once. It’s felt like the scariest, worst choice we could make. What if there’s no longer a coaching job here for us in August? At the same time, it’s felt like the safest, best choice we could make. Our family is growing, and we need more space without a higher monthly payment.
What direction will our lives go next?
I know that by September everything in our lives will change, if only because we’re becoming parents. Yet, I’ve never felt more at peace at the end of a season. I’ve never had quite so much faith that the Lord will provide the best for us and our growing family, no matter what that means, and no matter what that will look like. I’ve never felt so sure that His plans will prevail.