Tag: parenting reflections

  • From Frisbees to Family: How Sports Taught Me the True Meaning of Community

    From Frisbees to Family: How Sports Taught Me the True Meaning of Community

    Daily writing prompt
    What are your favorite sports to watch and play?

    A Game of Connection

    Sports have never been my main passion. But they always seem to sneak back into my life — especially when community and connection are involved.

    For someone more comfortable in the garden than on the field, I’ve learned that sports aren’t really about keeping score. They’re about teamwork, laughter, and shared stories that stick with you long after the final whistle.

    Back When I Played

    Back in graduate school, a group of friends and colleagues had a standing tradition of meeting twice a week to rotate between volleyball, soccer, and ultimate frisbee. Rain or shine, homework or no, we almost always managed to get enough players for two teams. Those games were the highlight of my week — a sweaty, laughter-filled break from the grind of grad school. We learned to read each other’s signals, celebrate small victories, and laugh off missed goals. These lessons translated well both to the lab and to the classroom. And, of course, the post-game burgers and beers were every bit as important as the play itself.

    The Knee Incident (and Das Boot)

    My sports “career,” however, took a dramatic turn during one fateful ultimate frisbee game. I jumped, landed wrong, and felt that awful twist — I had dislocated my right kneecap. That injury ended my athletic adventures at the tender age of 24. I still remember that sharp pop, the scramble to the sidelines, and the next day’s slow walk to urgent care. A few weeks later, at my own going-away party and still determined to have fun, I went with my crew to the Essenhaus to dance the polka. Let’s just say: bad idea. Same knee, same problem.

    The type of jump I made when I dislocated my kneecap. I caught the frisbee too. Photo by Stefano Zocca on Unsplash

    Looking back, I can admit that drinking Das Boot probably had something to do with my decision to hit the dance floor on a bum knee. Lesson learned, but it’s still one of those stories we laugh about around the table. Now, more than a decade later, the memory makes me smile far more than it aches.

    Watching Now, Not Playing

    These days, sports play a different role in my life. I may not be on the field anymore, but I love the energy of watching a good game — especially live. There’s something about a football or baseball crowd that brings people together so naturally. Strangers high-five after a score, pass along shared cheers, or tease rival fans in good fun. Tailgates are my favorite part — not because of the game itself, but for the food and fellowship that surround them. The smoky scent of burgers, laughter spilling from nearby tents, friends swapping recipes for dips or barbecue sauces — it’s all about connection. Like sharing a dish at a potluck or passing homegrown tomatoes over the fence, sports gatherings are another way we build community one joyful moment at a time.

    From Tailgates to Home Games

    On game days at home, the living room becomes our little stadium. The kids get into the excitement (mostly for the snacks), and we all share those small, easy moments of joy — a great play, a plate of nachos disappearing too quickly, and the cat hiding under the couch, wondering why the humans are hollering again. I may not follow every stat or play, but I love how sports create reasons to pause, eat, laugh, and just be together — much like a shared meal from the garden or a neighborhood cookout.

    A Different Kind of Teamwork

    I sometimes joke that I traded my frisbee for a trowel and volleyball sand for garden soil, but the lessons stuck. Whether it’s tending tomatoes, playing pickup soccer with my kids in the yard, or cheering from the sidelines, the spirit of teamwork, joy, and shared stories keeps showing up.

    In the end, community is the real team sport — and that’s one I’ll never retire from.


    What’s one sport or shared activity that’s helped your community grow closer?

    If this story made you smile, share it with a friend. Better yet, invite them over for a game-day snack and a laugh. Subscribe for more reflections on growing food, raising kids, and building community.

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    The Booyah Curling Club: Finding Community in Unexpected Places

    If you started a sports team, what would the colors and mascot be? Some people dream of owning a football franchise or a professional basketball team. Me? I’d rather build something smaller—something you can actually show up for without needing a corporate sponsor or a teleprompter. Mainstream sports have their own kind of magic, sure,…

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  • The Story Behind My Name: From “Face” to Embracing Faith

    The Story Behind My Name: From “Face” to Embracing Faith

    Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.

    As the last of six girls, I drew the “leftover” name that ended up rewriting my story.

    Faith was not the name my parents had planned—because they hadn’t planned any name at all. The night I was born, my mom kept suggesting options and my dad kept turning them down. Nothing felt quite right. Then my mom suggested Faith, adding almost offhandedly, “Everyone needs a little Faith.” This time, my dad didn’t argue. Just like that, Faith became mine.

    For years, I didn’t love that origin story. My name felt too different, too noticeable. On the phone, if I said it too fast, people would ask me to repeat it or guess something else entirely. One child dubbed me “Face” in a moment of childhood brilliance. That pretty much summed up how I felt—misheard, slightly awkward, and more than a little self-conscious about a name that drew attention I didn’t want.

    Names have a way of catching up with you, though. As I got older, I started to sit with the meaning of Faith. At its simplest, it means “belief in something greater than yourself.” That “something greater” is different for everyone—God, the universe, a calling, a purpose, or even the quiet conviction that life can be better than it is today. There is a tenderness in that idea, a kind of built-in hope. My name stopped feeling like an odd label and started feeling more like an invitation.

    Faith, on its own, doesn’t magically fix anything. Belief without action can easily turn into wishful thinking. But when you pair faith with hard work, grit, and determination, it becomes a powerful force. It keeps you moving when the path is unclear. It nudges you to try again after a setback. It whispers that the effort is still worth it, even when the outcome isn’t guaranteed .

    Now, when I introduce myself, I do it with a little more warmth toward that younger version of me who cringed at her own name. I carry a word that reminds me daily to look beyond what I can see, to trust that there is more possible than what is obvious, and to keep showing up and doing the work anyway.

    Everyone may not need me, exactly—but everyone does need a little faith. And somehow, over the years, that has become something I’m proud to embody.

    Feature photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash


    What’s the story behind your name? Share below—let’s uncover what we carry .

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    From Nerves to Connection: Lessons from a Lifetime of Public Speaking

    Have you ever performed on stage or given a speech? My heartbeat quickened as the announcer called my name, each syllable echoing through the microphone. Applause filled the conference hall as I walked toward the podium, my shoes tapping softly against the floor. The room smelled faintly of coffee and stale donuts—a familiar comfort for…

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  • Rediscovering Play: Finding Joy in Everyday Moments

    Rediscovering Play: Finding Joy in Everyday Moments

    Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?

    They say age makes you wiser, but I think it also tempts you to forget how to play. Somewhere between deadlines, grocery lists, and laundry piles, the carefree joy of play starts to slip away—unless someone, or something, reminds you to find it again.

    When I think about play now, I think about movement, laughter, and not worrying too much about the outcome. These days, play often looks like sledding down the hill with my kids—rolling off at the bottom, snow-covered and breathless with laughter. It looks like raking leaves together, watching them pile up, then jumping straight in—laughing as the leaves fly higher than our expectations.

    When the seasons turn, play moves outside in new ways. In summer, it means packing up for a day at the beach—building sandcastles that never quite survive the waves or racing along the water’s edge until our feet ache from the heat and joy.

    On the days we stay home, it’s setting up the sprinkler in the yard, running through it again and again until our shirts cling and the air smells like wet grass and sunshine. My kids remind me daily to keep playing—to stay connected to that easy laughter that hides too easily beneath daily responsibility. They make sure I don’t take life so seriously all the time.


    But play doesn’t only happen outdoors or with my children. On my own, I love to play with words and music. Words are my favorite playground. Writing lets me toss thoughts and stories around like pebbles into a stream—watching the ripples spread and change shape as they go.

    Music, too, turns ordinary days into something brighter. Whether I’m singing in the car or humming through chores, it shakes loose the to-do list sitting heavy in my mind and makes room for possibility.
    Then there’s the kitchen—my most flavorful form of play.

    Cooking, for me, is equal parts creativity, science, and surrender. I love experimenting with textures, spices, and colors until they finally mesh just right. Of course, “just right” often takes a few tries. Some experiments end in triumph, others in takeout.

    Stir fry is my best teacher; I spent years perfecting the balance between crisp vegetables, tender meat, and a sauce that clings instead of puddles. I’ve made more leathery dinners than I’d like to admit, but somewhere between burnt edges and breakthroughs, I found joy in the process.

    Play, for me, is exploration for its own sake—the laughter, the learning, and the freedom to fail without fear. The older I get, the more I realize play isn’t confined to childhood; it’s what keeps us curious, forgiving, and fully alive. Whether I’m chasing my kids through waves, sprinting through sprinklers, scribbling a sentence, or perfecting a stir fry, play reminds me that joy can live inside any moment—if only I let it.

    Building a castle in the sand

    What does play look like for you? Is it laughter with your kids, a creative hobby, or something entirely your own? I’d love to hear how you keep play and curiosity alive in your daily life—share your thoughts in the comments below!

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