A Season of Lasts

Last night, I sat on the sidelines of my daughter’s lacrosse playoff game—the Quarter Finals. A game that had never been won in the history of her school. The energy was electric. The teams were evenly matched. And for my daughter, who has played competitively since she was 8 years old, this wasn’t just another game. It could have been her last.

Kyah is my firstborn—by two whole minutes before her twin brother—and every bit the strong-willed, tenacious, fiercely competitive, feisty girl God created her to be. She doesn’t stop running, EVER. She plays with everything she’s got, and always for her team. She’s never been about the stats. She’s always been about the heart.

This game… it was emotional. And then, in the intensity of it all, she got a penalty. Not just any penalty—a yellow card. Her team had to play man-down for two minutes. And not long after she returned, it happened again. A second yellow. Which meant ejection. She was out for the rest of the game.

As a mama, my heart was wrecked. I wanted to fight the refs, argue her case, fix it. But I knew better. I knew the only thing I could control was my response. So, I walked. And I prayed. And I watched my girl, broken and crying in “the box,” her head in her hands.

And then… something holy happened.

She stood up. She wiped her tears. She accepted the love from her teammates. She took off her helmet. And she led. She cheered with everything she had. She became the heartbeat of the sideline. That energy? It caught fire. And her team? They won. In a way they never had before.

That moment—that shift—was a divine nugget from a kind and loving Father. A whisper in my spirit:
 “I’ve got this. I’ve got her. You’ve done your job. I’ll take it from here.”

As a mom in a season of transition, I’ve been asking a lot of hard questions.

Have I done enough?
Prayed enough?
Taught enough?
Loved well enough?

And in that moment, God answered with a resounding yes. A reminder that He is in control. That when we do the hard work, when we model faith and vulnerability, when we go first—they notice. And He uses every piece of it. For our good. And for His glory.

So, to the mama holding on tight and letting go at the same time—
I see you.
I’ve been there.
I am there.

And here’s what I’ve learned:

You don’t have to rush past the hard.
You can sit in it. Feel it.
And still step into the new thing God is doing in you.

This season of “lasts”?
It’s not the end.
It’s the beginning of something sacred.

Keep your hands open.
He’s not done.