This weekend was a big one for our family. My daughter is a competitive swimmer, and it was time for district meets. Lots of early mornings, packed bags, wet towels, and nervous energy.
Across the weekend she qualified for four finals out of her six races. That’s a solid meet by any standard. But on her very last race of the weekend, things went sideways.
When the heat started, I watched her push off the blocks…and then swim one of the worst races I’ve ever seen her swim. She wasn’t slower than everyone else, but it looked like her fundamentals disappeared in the water. Breathing pattern, stroke rhythm, finishes—everything seemed off.
By the time she touched the wall, I felt that punch‑in‑the‑gut disappointment that every competitive parent knows. Then I looked at her face. She was even more disappointed than I was. In that moment, it hit me: she didn’t need a lecture about what went wrong. She already knew. My frustration wasn’t going to fix anything. What she needed most from her dad right then was love and encouragement, not analysis.
I grew up as an athlete. I was hard on myself about performance, fundamentals, and mental toughness. I still expect a lot from my kids—fight through adversity, focus on the basics, give your best effort. But at the end of the day, they are my kids first, not my projects.
A few hours later, we were back home celebrating my wife’s birthday. The same girl who had just swum a rough race was now running around the house cleaning, writing notes, and setting up for “the greatest birthday party ever” for her mom. No sulking. No replaying the race out loud. Just joy, service, and excitement.
She taught me something that day. As Ted Lasso would say, “Be a goldfish.” Feel it, learn what you can, and then move on. On to the next swim meet—without letting today’s race own your heart.
One Key Principle From God’s Word
This week’s notes have focused on trials, training, and steady faithfulness over time. James 1:3 says that the testing of our faith brings out endurance and steadfastness. A rough race at the end of a long meet becomes another lap in that kind of endurance—not just for kids, but for parents too.
Districts didn’t suddenly stop mattering because the race went badly. But that race took on a different meaning. It highlighted where fundamentals slipped and where emotions ran high, and it showed me where my own responses needed to grow gentler.
Another verse from this week, 1 Corinthians 15:58, reminds us to “be firm, steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord,” knowing that our labor is not futile or wasted. All the practices, early mornings, and corrections weren’t erased by one off swim. The foundation she has built is still there, and the character I’m working on as a dad is still being formed as well.
Honest Reflections From the Pool Deck
Standing on that pool deck surfaced a few things in my own heart (and maybe in yours too):
- Our kids don’t need us to repeat what they already feel. By the time she got out of the water, she didn’t need me to list every mistake. She felt it in her own body. What she needed first was, “I love you. I’m proud of your effort. We’ll talk about it when you’re ready.”
- Performance can’t be the only lens. I care about effort, fundamentals, and pushing through adversity. Those are good things. But if I’m not careful, I can see my kids mostly through the lens of performance. Watching her pivot from a hard race to joyfully serving her mom reminded me: who she is matters more than what she did in one heat.
- Sometimes our kids let go faster than we do. While I was still replaying the race in my head, she was taping up decorations, writing birthday notes, and laughing with her siblings. She had already changed lanes. That isn’t carelessness; often it’s healthy resilience.
This weekend reminded me that sports are a classroom for both athletes and parents. The pool, the field, the court—those places reveal what’s going on inside us and give us a chance to grow.
One Simple Step for This Week
To build hearts, homes, and leaders where you are, try this:
Pick one “loss” moment and lead with relationship before review.
- Notice the next moment when someone you love has a rough outing.
A bad game, a failed test, a rough presentation, or a conversation that went sideways. - Start with presence, not a breakdown.
Before you give feedback, say something like, “I’m glad you’re mine,” or “That was tough—thank you for giving it your best.” - Save the coaching for later.
When emotions have cooled, then ask, “What did you notice out there?” or “What would you like to do differently next time?” Let them go first. - Affirm who they are, not just what they did.
Point out a character trait you saw—courage, effort, kindness to a teammate, composure—and let that carry as much weight as the result.
Over time, responses like that help our kids learn that their identity is not hanging on one race, test, or performance. And they help us grow into the kind of parents and leaders whose love runs deeper than the scoreboard.
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