I love playing tennis. Yet, I am inconsistent. Practice is supposed to make perfect. And I practice winter, spring, summer, and fall. I even drive from Hempstead to Queens, to Harlem and even to Westchester. I’m not much better now than I was when I first began playing. Perhaps, because I started playing better than most. Great eye-hand coordination; good physical shape; high energy; willing to hustle to get the ball. I still have all that, but the object of the game is to make the point. And do it consistently.
There are days when Serena better watch herself. I’m on fire. Hitting the all the balls, making the points. But most days, the only love I get on the court is my score. Hey, I still stay in the game. That’s my modus operandi. God gave me gifts that range from good; to great; to not so much. But I keep showing up and I keep playing. I refuse to quit. I keep giving it my best shot. I play to win as many points as I can. I give myself permission to enjoy the game, even when I miss the ball; even when my eyes aren’t on the ball I’m going to stay "in it" doing all I can to eventually "win it." I invite all of us into the game of life. Keep playing your best game. The game of tennis is a good analogy for life. Even when you aren’t winning any points you can end up with a score of love.
Love and realness,