Cross-Country is my new, favorite sport. I find it tremendously exhilarating and fun, waiting with anticipation to see the first orange running shoes to come around the corner or out of a wooded area. Saturday was no different as the Habersham Raiders took on several high school teams in Jefferson, Georgia, a 45 minute drive from our home in Clarkesville. The course intertwined between two soccer fields at Lamar-Murphy Park and a male prison – razor wires and all. Spectators joked that such an event should be entitled “Freedom Run” or “Jail Break Race.” I couldn’t help but wonder what it must be like for these teenage boys and girls to run beside those fences, and if it made an impact in any way.
It is rare if I do not see her, my friend and confidant, Cindy Corbett. Her son John and my son Will are friends. From an early age the boys decided Cindy would win the “best mom” award, and I would be a close second. (It is the story of my life). In khaki shorts, an orange t’shirt, white cap, and a camera around her neck, I spotted her just as my husband and I pulled in. Her bright smile and light mood always attract me. Cindy is an elementary school teacher. Her husband Don serves on the Board of Education; but, her most important position for me is “Tag-Team Parent.”
As a mom of six, I’ve tagged team with some of the best – Bo Hemmer, our daughters, Tara and Collier, danced together; Sarita Davidson, our sons, Bo and Tavarres, played ball together; Allison Brewer, our sons, Ben and Mitchell, did everything together; Lori Monroe, our daughters, Megan and Hart, played soccer together; Kim McClurg, our daughters Madeline and Dory, dance together; and now Cindy.
We’ve watched these boys grow into young men, supporting and loving them, disciplining and worrying over them, and spending countless hours chatting and advising one another. Raising children is all about community. From parents, to teachers, coaches, friends, and even people we don’t know, it is an all-encompassing job. Our children glean something from us all.
It isn’t about who crosses the finish line first, though to watch us jumping and screaming one might think so. It isn’t even about whose kid is hers and whose is mine. (Any spectator out there would not be able to tell from our enthusiasm for both). It is simply about sharing responsibility in parenting young men and women.
I would dare to guess, but that’s probably what God meant for it to be.
