There's Enough Pie For Everyone

She knows very little about basketball, but she paced the stands screaming the Lady Warriors on to a 4A State Championship, she videoed me with the coveted family camcorder for hours as I practiced my tap dancing in a triple XL Backstreet Boys t, she found me bawling in my bathroom over the fictional deaths of Old Dan and Little Ann, she found me practicing my kissing on my arm on the toilet and then having to sift through that very toilet to find my loose tooth that fell in (the tooth fairy wasn't going to look for it in there), she endured my wails after Dillard’s warned us the store was closing in 10 minutes and I could not think of anything worse than being trapped in a Dillard's all night at the age of 8, she taught me to seek out 5-star luxury hotel restrooms, lock myself in the stall and wait for her if I ever got lost in the unruly crowds of New York City the very first time we visited, she flew with me across the country from college campus to college campus to college campus for a basketball camp.

She’s my mom.

(Pretending to golf when we all know we're here for a sun tan & sweet tea)

 (Probably basket #3 of Roadhouse rolls)

(Posing with someone else's pint of Guinness in Ireland)

(My first day of college)

I want to take the focus away from my basketball blurbs and simply give credit where credit is due.

Ya know, my mom was the first one to start this whole blogging idea. John, Luke, & I knew it was going to take a turn for the worst as soon as we heard the news. We’ve scolded her for most of her sappy, over-exaggerated posts, but after it’s all said and done, there’s nothing I enjoy reading more.

When I was younger my mom taught me one very important lesson that resonates with me deeply today as I write 30,000 ft. above ground on my way to Cancun for, you guessed it, basketball.

“There’s enough pie for everyone.”

I can hear my mom’s voice shout it from the mountaintops.

There’s enough success for everyone. There’s no need for jealously, for stealing someone else’s joy, or for making someone else’s accomplishments inferior to your own. There’s enough pie for everyone!

Courtesy of Delta Airlines, Bad Moms is the complimentary movie of the flight. I thought it was going to be worth a two-hour nap. Contrary to popular belief, Mila Kunis stole the show. It even tug at the heart strings a little as I thought about 'ol Tracy Nicole.

My mom taught me that people matter. People’s successes matter. There’s no use for comparison. There’s no use for anger. There’s no use for tearing another woman, or man down. At the end of the day what’s that get ya? Jack squat.

I can remember it clear as day. Every Thanksgiving, my mother would get up from the kitchen table and take out this giant, silver plated fork.

“Everyone, let me introduce to you all the ‘talking fork.’ Each person take a moment with the fork and share what you’re thankful for."

A collective sigh quickly ensued. Typical Tracy antics at their best. Person by person we begrudgingly gave her what she wanted. By the end, we couldn’t stop smiling. That’s what Thanksgiving is all about, isn’t it? Gathering around those people you’re biologically forced to gather around a few times a year in order to remember how good you’ve got it.

Pure bliss.

Even though my mom engrained her patented quote into my brain long ago, it’s taken me awhile to fully put it into practice. Truly being happy for someone, when someone else’s successes are just as important as your own, when you don’t have to feel inadequate about your own accomplishments because someone else’s just must be a little bit “better,” you will soon realize that people are people no matter how (tall). The dear Lord wants us to build each other up in order to build His kingdom up. Be happy for another, compliment one another, and most importantly, love one another. 

I've learned from the best. I've learned from my mom.

Slices of success never run out. There’s enough pie for everyone.