A judge, I am not.

Last Saturday I had the privilege of line judging in the Sparks A Rama for a church I used to attend. It's a regional event where several churches get together and compete against each other in games. Sparks are aged five through eight. They're the youngest group of the bunch that competes. (The older groups' games are called simply "Awana Games") I've wanted to judge- well, at least be certified to judge- for years, but women weren't allowed in the National Capital Region. When I was asked this year, I started to make sure I was definitely still female and was told, "Women can judge now!" I said of course I would. Since we are still looking for a church home, this was the closest I was going to get to actually having a team of my own.

I got to the event on Saturday and put on the official's shirt. With the shirt came the weight of responsibility like I have never known before at an event like this. As a player, you listen to your coach and do your best. If you are disqualified, it's your fault, but you still know you did your best. As a coach, you teach your kids the games. You practice for hours. You tell them a hundred times NOT to do that or you'll be disqualified. When they still do it at the games, you just have to shake your head and laugh as they come back to you. As a line judge, you are the one who has to make the call as to whether or not that team is disqualified. I suddenly realized that I'd be the one deciding whether or not a team got points for games. Whether they won or lost. It was something I hadn't thought about until I actually got there. The fact that I was about a foot shorter than everyone else who was judging didn't make me feel any better about it. Carrying all the teams on your shoulders and you're smaller than everyone else in the same role... Not a nice feeling.

The first game is called the Sparky Crawl. The best explanation for this game is "Organized Chaos". Basically, you have four teams- one on each side of the square and they crawl all the way across the game floor at once. The first round went well. Everyone got to and back, took off their kneepads and settled down to let flight two of the second circle have their go. The whistle blew....

And all of the Sparks on OUR circle, who had already played and were supposed to wait for the next game, started off across the square again! Have you ever seen eight adults try to chase after thirty- odd focus- driven children on a game floor? If the planned Crawl is organized chaos, this was complete madness. It was a terribly funny, and unique experience. More than one adult ended up on the floor- me being one of them.

After the event was over, I walked to each coach and congratulated them on their good job. Believe me, if you can get twelve to fifteen Sparks to sit on a line for a hour and play organized games, you deserve a medal. A coach who's team I had to disqualify every single time I judged their line hugged me and told me, "Thank you so much. God bless you." Suddenly, my petty fears from the beginning of the day didn't matter at all.

And really, that was what it was all about. Not how well the kids did. Not who won or lost. Not what we think of coaching styles. Not about the way you judge. It's about the church coming together, no matter what denomination, and enjoying each other and the kids while worshiping the one who made it all possible.

So saying, I did not really enjoy being the big, mean person who has to say the team was disqualified. Does anyone need a coach for next year?

God bless and see you soon,

Joelle