This was despite the fact that the mighty Knights lost 9-8 in their softball championship, for those of you who are regular readers. There was some disappointment, but our team had a grand slam home run and other notable accomplishments, so it was a victory in our minds.

So there I was at the park yesterday with my girls. You should know that I am not a hover parent. Unless one of my kids is really, really stuck and in danger of falling, I usually keep myself parked on a bench and let them work things out for themselves. The little ones get pushes on the swings, but that’s about it.

At one point two beautiful girls came to the park with the grandmother, and both girls were full of energy and ready to go. They were tall enough to get onto the swings by themselves, which they did right away.

And then they did something very interesting.

They did nothing.

The two beautiful, capable little girls waited until their grandmother came over to push them. They didn’t even try to get started on their own. They didn’t cooperate and push each other.

It made me think of how many times in my own life I’ve been capable of doing something, but I held back. I waited for the push. I didn’t struggle and flail like mad to get going. I delayed that feeling of soaring and almost flying and instead stayed tethered to the ground.

Sometimes, it’s been because another person told me they were going to give me a push, and sometimes that kept me stuck in my tracks.

So my question for today is this:  Why are you waiting? Do you really need to wait for someone else to push you, or can you do it yourself?

Here’s why:  this morning I’m the proudest of mammas.

My daughter, who is 9, plays softball. Actually, it’s more accurate to say she lives and breathes softball.

Last night, her team (the Knights) played in their second playoff game. Last year the team lost in the second round, but we were so absolutely delighted and astounded to have won the first game it felt like winning the world series anyway.

This year, it was different. This is a team of girls who came with some business to take care of.

Last night, not only did they win, but they played well. Really well.

And they had fun, both on the field and off.

They were out there talking to each other on the field, reminding each other, cheering each other on. They were completely focused on their mission.

They were dousing themselves with cold water in between innings and were more concerned about advancing the runners than scoring themselves.

Before the game a couple of team members asked what would happen if this was the last game. They were were quickly told by others that this was their second-to-the-last game. Period. The expectation was that on Saturday they were planning to be in the finals.

And they won 5-0.

Oh, happiness.

This morning in between dropping off my husband’s inhaler for him at school and picking up Claire at preschool, I had about 45 minutes. I know, it’s not much time. But for a mom it’s an eternity.

I thought, perhaps this is a sign that I need to be nice to myself. So I went to the local coffee shop where I steadfastly resisted the temptation to to twitter my brother about something that is fall-off-your-chair hysterically funny. That’s a story for another day.

Instead, I succumbed to coffee and a muffin (blueberry, I’ll have you know. Yummm).

I pulled out a notepad.

At the top, I wrote “Hone in on what is so obvious to you that it hardly bears mentioning.” I found the quote this morning on the “How Third Hand Works Gets In Gear” blog. You should read the entire post. It’s amazing.

I changed it a little — to “Hone in on what is so obvious to you that you are good at that it hardly bears mentioning” (sorry, Cairene, I just can’t help tweaking stuff).

After about 20 minutes of doodling and staring out the window and eavesdropping on a really interesting conversation at the next table, guess what?

I think I found it.

My “thing”. I’ve been thinking about what “my thing” is, looking for it, meditating about it, trying to label it and create it so hard lately.

It’s the thing that I’m just amazingly good at. It’s the thing that my right people need and that I can help them with 100%.

It seemed like it was always behind a brick wall — but I knew it was there.

And this morning, the bricks fell away. And there it was. Shiny and perfect and all ready to roll. It’s been there all along.

The amazing part is that it connects perfectly — seamlessly — with the other “thing” I’ve been working on and writing, and that seems more-than-just-a-little insane unless the two are together.

How amazing is that?

Just had to share. I knew you’d be happy. I am simply and extremely very happy at this moment.

Thanks for reading and being a part of this moment with me.