He Missed the Game, But He Still Came
When my husband called after work and said he was on his way to the field, we were already near the end of our last at-bats.
I told him he probably wouldn’t make it in time and that it was okay to just head home. The game was being played across town—twenty minutes past our house.
But he said, “I’m still coming. Even if I just see you in the parking lot, I want the kids to know I tried.”
He arrived at the sidelines just as the final batter rounded the bases. Both of our boys were already picking up their gloves.
I wish I could say their faces lit up when they saw their dad—but one said, “You’re late,” and the other just looked at him, confused.
Their reaction didn’t match the effort he made, and I could tell it stung a little.
He picked up the chair he never got to sit in, grabbed most of our things, and walked with us to the car.
I knew he was disappointed. And I knew the boys were too.
But as we walked together to the car, I saw something more important—a quiet moment that planted a seed. The simple act of showing up, even late, was a quiet lesson in love.
One day, maybe not long from now, our kids will realize that being there matters.
Even when you’re busy. Even when you’re running behind. Even when you just show up to carry the bags.
It still matters.
They’ll learn that showing up isn’t about how many innings you see—it’s about choosing to be there, to support the people you love.
They may not remember that we arrived separately.
But they’ll always remember that we left together—as a team.
Credit goes to the original owner…. 😍😍😍