Mr. Shores knew how to coach a winning volleyball team. He wasn't particularly friendly or nice, but he was good. He was competitive. He meant to win and he drove us hard to achieve that goal. Most of us were eleven years old; a few had already turned twelve. We were in the sixth grade. I'd barely made the team, and he only put me into the game after we had a significant lead. I played every game though because the other girls on the team were that good. I didn't mind the bench. I was never alone on it. There were four of us who bench-sat until he was confident that we could do no harm regardless of how many balls we let sail past us. I loved playing volleyball and was thrilled to have made the "A" team even if it was to primarily watch from the sidelines. It's fun to be part of a winning team regardless of how a small a part you play. In this mode, I became adept at cheering my team on to its many victories that year. This was "back in the day" when...
Thoughts on life and faith