Netball Courts

It was early autumn of 1999, and I was standing in the shade of a school I used to attend. It was still sunny, as it is all year round in Hawkes Bay, New Zealand. The breeze had started to blow a little, but the shade was still the nicest place to be.

Nearby was a netball court, and it was empty—all the other kids were still in class. Why was I there? Because the year before, Mum and Dad had decided to homeschool us. I was eight years old at the time, and it seemed like it was going to be a fun adventure, but this part was becoming the hardest. I had wanted to stay in netball, so Mum would drop me off at the old school, where they had worked out special permission for me to join their netball team. I would awkwardly walk through the administration building toward the back, where the sports field and court were. But it always seemed so open and lonely, so I would hover near the building, waiting for my teammates to finish their classes and come pouring out onto the court.

Some of the kids still remembered me during that first netball season after I left the school, but now it was the following year. There were new students, and some of the old ones had changed and grown. I hadn’t kept up with all the changes and felt out of the loop. I was the weird homeschool kid quietly (or not so quietly) joining in for sports. Twice a week, as classes ended, I’d stand in the shade of the administration building, waiting for the others to come out, pushing down the feeling of being "other." Then, I’d feign confidence, walk up, and try to fit into whatever the vibe was that day. Sometimes I did, but more often, I didn’t.

We didn’t really use the terms for it back then, but that feeling as I watched the other girls all come out together, hoping that this would be one of the weeks when I easily slotted in, was anxiety. We didn’t deal with it the same way back then, and for me, I guess that was good. I just had to get up and get out there, presenting confidence. And so I did. But there was always that weird moment before, and sometimes weird moments all the way through, when I just felt, well, "other."

Why am I talking about netball courts and awkward prepubescent interactions? Because now, in 2024, at 36 years of age, I still feel the same way. It’s not always about groups of people—actually, it turns out I’m pretty good at those now. Now, as an adult, it’s mostly about the future and my incessant worrying about how it’s all going to play out. #missions

Here’s the thing about anxiety: it’s usually about things we can’t control. Yes, there are parts we can improve on, but overall, anxiety is there because we’re trying to control a future that is often unknowable. Back in ’99, I thought it was the end of the world to go into a situation and not quite vibe, but it really wasn’t. And here, in this era, I’m learning much the same lesson. Things are going to be okay, even if they don’t turn out how we planned.

What does it take for someone to take that step and confidently walk into the unknown? I think a sense of adventure is necessary, but so is unwavering faith in something. For me, as a young girl on that court, it was the desire to play netball. It was so strong that I pushed through a lot of challenging feelings to get to and stay on that court. Those feelings also pushed me to be the best possible player I could be, and I did myself proud. Now, in this season, it’s my unwavering faith in the goodness of God. Life is crazy out there, but the deep, unshakable belief that God is good really does help me deal with whatever is coming.

So maybe, in this season, you’re in my boat, and we’re all on this crazy ride with a little anxiety bubbling under the surface. Here’s the good news: I became a really good netball player, and I know that whatever challenge you're facing, you can also master. It’s about letting go of the things we can’t control and trusting God with the unknowns. Focus on what you can control: get that solid eight hours of sleep, eat food that truly nourishes you, find moments of quiet to reset, and surround yourself with the people who matter most. Keep showing up, do what you can, and let the rest unfold.

We've got this.