When Life Throws a Fastball

When Life Throws a Fastball

Last week, I stepped back.

My son had tooth surgery, and my world narrowed down to soft foods, medication schedules, and making sure he felt safe and okay. The blog was quiet. Social media slowed down. And that was exactly where I needed to be.

Then last night…

I took a warm-up pitch straight to the face.

Yes. A real baseball.

Yes. A real black eye.

No, I did not catch it.

It looks much less severe than it feels – which, if we’re being honest, is the most accurate metaphor for adulthood I’ve experienced in a while.

From the outside? “oh, that’s not too bad.”

But from the inside? Bloody nose. Ice pack. Ibuprofen. Pride slightly wounded. Ego definitely bruised.

And somewhere between laughing at the absurdity, checking the mirror again, and reassuring my son that it was not his fault, I had this thought:

This is exactly what life does sometimes.

The Hits You Don’t See Coming

There are the hits you train for.

The presentations. The deadlines. The hard conversations.

And then there are the ones you never saw coming.

A diagnosis. A setback. A relationship shift. An unexpected bill. A pitch to the face while practicing with your son.

The unexpected hits are the ones that test you.

Not because they knock you down – but because they make you decide:

               Am I sitting out now?

               Or am I staying in the game?

It Looks Better Than It Feels

Here’s the part we don’t talk about enough:

Some bruises don’t look that bad.

Some struggles don’t show up dramatically on the outside.

You still show up to work. You still answer the emails. You still pack the lunches. You still smile in the meetings.

But internally?

You’re icing something.

And that doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.

Resilience isn’t pretending it didn’t hurt. It’s acknowledging that it did – and showing up anyway, in spite of the pain.

Staying in the Game

I could’ve let the embarrassment or discomfort take over.

I could’ve gone home frustrated. I could’ve decided that I’m officially finding someone else to play catcher for my son (that is still being considered…).

Instead, I let it bleed. I cried. I laughed. I iced it. And I drove him to practice.

Because the game is bigger than the bruise.

Motherhood is bigger than the black eye. Purpose is bigger than discomfort. Growth is bigger than one unexpected hit.

And here’s the truth: If you’re doing anything meaningful – leading, parenting, building, healing – you will take hits.

Not because you are failing. But because you’re in motion.

You can’t get hit by a pitch if you’re not near the field.

Be the Echo

This space exists for one reason:

To echo truth louder than fear. To echo courage louder than doubt. To echo perspective louder than pain.

So if you’re showing up today with something that “doesn’t look that bad” but feels heavy… Stay in the game.

Ice what hurts.

Laugh when you can.

Protect your face next time.

But don’t stop playing the game.

The bruise will fade. But the character won’t.