One way to delight my oldest son is to mention baseball cards. His whole being lights up. “Yes, baseball cards!” and off he goes with a box to open. To Wes, the baseball cards are new found treasure. “Mom, each pack could have an autograph card in it. You never know what you might get,” he adds with excitement. The hobby demands intensity and wonderment.
My husband collected baseball cards during his single life and even through our first married years. When Wes came along, diapers demanded more of his cash than cards, so the hobby was placed on hold. I remember trying to help my husband organize the cards. My eyes went cross-eyed after looking at the small detail numbers. The hobby demands time and patience.
“Be careful!” I’m instructed. “Only hold them from the sides, like this,” my son proceeds to show me the proper way to hold the baseball cards. A small piece of colored cardboard becomes the most precious possession. The hobby demands procedure and precision.
Today my friend handed me several bags of old baseball cards her ex-husband had left. She held out a Nolan Ryan card. “I think this might be worth something, but I’m not sure.” I knew my son would be able to look at the player and year and be able to estimate an approximate worth. He snatched the opportunity to work with the baseball cards. The hobby demands loving the moment.
Wes seizes any opportunity to work with a hobby he enjoys. It fulfills him.
Isn’t teaching like that?
It demands the best from you.