Day 3 Reflections: The Power of Presence

Day 3 Reflections: The Power of Presence

As I reflect this morning, I’m reminded how important it is to simply be there for people. Not just when things are going well, but especially when they’re hard.

As we head into Day 3, I’m watching how quickly situations can swing. There are moments when the ball is coming off the hand beautifully, hitting the pocket, and everything feels right. And then there are moments when the same shot doesn’t get the same result, the pins don’t fall, and frustration quietly begins to build.

Inside the bowling center, I see coaches standing behind bowlers. Parents. Loved ones. And I’m reminded that sometimes their presence alone is the greatest encouragement these athletes receive.

As Barbi and I stand behind Bella, our goal is simple: let her know we’re there. Not to fix. Not to instruct. Not to react. Just to be present.

After she throws a shot, she can turn around and see us standing there. Sometimes we say nothing at all. And often, that silence is the greatest support she could have in that moment.

There are times she comes back and wants to talk, and we listen. Truly listen. And that means not speaking. Because when you’re listening, you can’t be talking. And I need that reminder too, in my own life.

There’s a quiet power in silence. A strength in restraint. A deep kind of love that doesn’t rush in with words, advice, or perspective.

After Day 1 and Day 2, there have already been plenty of ups and downs across these first twelve games, with many more still ahead. And while this reflection comes from a bowling center, it really isn’t about bowling at all.

It’s about life.

There may be someone in your life right now who doesn’t need your answers. They don’t need your perspective. They may not even need your questions. Sometimes they just need your presence.

They need to know they’re loved. That you’re there.

If they need to cry, let them cry.

If they need a hug, give them a hug.

If they need to vent, let them vent.

If they need silence, honor it.

If they need to talk through a problem, let them do the talking.

And sometimes, that’s all that’s needed.

I think about this in my marriage too. There are times Barbi just needs me to listen. And times when I need her to do the same for me. We walk through struggles together, learning when to speak and when to simply sit side by side.

For Bella, we want the bowling center to be a safe place. A shade tree. Somewhere she can stand, breathe, and feel supported without having to say a word.

Because when words come at the wrong time, they can create tension instead of peace. And we don’t want that for her.

We’re learning as parents. And I see others learning too. Sometimes just being there, quietly, helps everyone reset. It helps them take a deep breath, stand tall, and give their best effort the next time they step on the approach and look down the lane at those ten pins staring back at them.

Knowing there’s someone behind them who loves them, supports them, and believes in them no matter what.

I remind Bella of this often:

I love you for who you are.

I love you for your character.

I love you for your faith.

I love you for who you are, not for results.

Not for scores.

Not for outcomes.

Not for what you do.

As we move into Day 3, my hope and prayer is that she feels strong, grounded, and free, knowing she is deeply supported and fully loved for who she is.