Planting Pauses: Baseball Edition

we are not promised an endless season, but we are given moments

Last month, Scott and I went to our first Braves game of the season. I squirmed excitedly in my seat like a little kid. I couldn’t wait to hear the sharp crack of the bat, hear the players’ walk-up songs, or see happy fans dancing on the jumbotron.

Although I love the energy at the games, my favorite thing to focus on is what happens right next to me: the quiet peace on my husband’s face.

Scott always buys a bag of peanuts. I love watching him crack open the shells with his strong fingers—fingers that have thrown thousands of baseballs over the years. He does it with complete ease and total concentration on the game.

For Scott, the ball field is his sielunmaisema, a Finnish word that means “soul landscape.” It’s the kind of place that lives deep inside you, the one that stirs something at the center of your chest—the place that always feels like home.

As a kid, Scott took road trips with his family to see the Cincinnati Reds play. Sometimes they’d just listen on the radio, huddled around his grandpa. Later, he played in baseball college—seasons marked by dusty gloves, sweat-stained caps, and the kind of joy only found under stadium lights.

For much of our marriage – twenty-two years to be exact – I wasn’t interested in baseball. But we’d never lived in a city with a pro team before, and suddenly my city was buzzing with playoff hype. I sat on the couch with Scott, wanting to be part of the energy behind the team. I learned the players’ names, the causes they supported, their nicknames and quirks. I got hooked.

Watching baseball slowed me down. It quieted my nervous system in a way I didn’t expect. I began to crave it—those slow innings, the pauses, the rhythm. Something about it made me feel grounded. I also loved the connection it gave me to Scott.

I had no idea that our shared love of baseball would become something even bigger—something that might just help us not miss our lives.

THE PHOTO THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

In August 2023, Scott and I went to watch the Braves take on the Yankees. While in the stands, Scott snapped a quick selfie of the two of us. The next day, when he looked at the photo, he noticed a lump in his neck. That picture sent him to urgent care. What followed was a two-month blur of alarming ultrasounds, appointments with specialists, inconclusive biopsies, and surgery planning.

The hardest part of those weeks was the not knowing. We had to accept the fact that we wouldn’t have answers until the orange-sized tumor was removed from Scott’s neck and sent off to pathology.

The only thing that felt certain during that time was life’s fragility. And strangely, that uncertainty gave us a kind of boldness—it pushed us to make choices we might not have made otherwise.

One of those choices came just days before Scott’s surgery. The Braves had made it to the National League Division Series, and Game 2 of the first round was happening in Atlanta the next night.

“Do you want to go to the game?” Scott asked, hesitantly, knowing full well I could count on one hand the number of spontaneous things I’ve done on a “school night”.

But what he said next felt like it floated up and hung in the air, lighter than all the fear we were carrying.

“I don’t know if I’ll have another chance.”

There is not much else to say after those words—except, let’s not waste a moment.

So, dressed head-to-toe in Braves gear, we went. The stadium was electric. For six innings, the Braves were hitless, but the crowd never gave up. There was this current of hope running through the stands, like everyone had silently agreed: We’re not done yet.

Then in the eighth inning, Austin Riley stepped up to bat—and hit a home run into the Phillies bullpen, putting the Braves ahead for the first time in the best-of-five series. Scott just happened to capture the epic moment on video.

Over the eruption of the crowd, there’s one voice screaming louder than the rest.

“Is that… Rachel?” confused friends and family asked when they listened back.

Yep. That was me.

That was the sound of joy… of saying yes… of being all there. In the middle of so much unknown, Scott and I were part of something full of life and hope. Sitting among thousands of fans who refused to give up on their team reminded me how powerful it can be to stay in the game.

PREPARE TO FLOURISH

Three weeks after the surgery, our family got the news we had prayed for—the tumor was benign. Relief washed over us. Now, the next step was regulating Scott’s thyroid levels, a process that would take time. But after the agonizing wait and wake-up call, we knew we could face it with patience and optimism.

That three-inch horizontal scar across his neck is barely noticeable to most. But every so often, I catch a glimpse of it. When I do, it reminds me to fiercely protect the moments that make life worth living.

Before we went to the recent Braves game, I prepared ahead of time to Plant a Pause. I wanted to be fully present, so I thought about how I’d manage my phone, how I’d calm my always-on work mind, how I’d stay grounded in the moment instead of watching it pass me by.

I imagined a little box in my purse—a place to tuck away my distractions for those three sacred hours. And it worked. It was a glorious night being present with my best friend.

POWER IN THE PAUSE

I purposely saved this story on Preparing to Plant Pauses, so it could be the grand finale in our special series. I’m sharing it in the hope that fewer sacred moments will slip by unnoticed.

The month of May holds so many for me. Natalie is competing this weekend in her second half-ironman. Avery is graduating in two weeks from high school. I keep envisioning myself being present in these settings. I imagine my eyes focused on my daughters… their eyes searching for mine… the tears that will well up. The lump that will rise in my throat.

Preparing to fully experience a moment is like packing for a trip – it helps ensure we arrive ready, and that we don’t leave something important behind.

We live in a culture of distraction—one that seeps into our most meaningful moments so quietly, so routinely, we often don’t even notice its quiet sabotage. But I believe we reclaim our power when we choose how we’ll meet those moments—deciding in advance how we’ll quiet the noise, both around us and within.

Throughout this month, I plan to Plant Pauses. To carry them with me like seeds, tucked in the sacred spaces of graduation ceremonies, finish lines, family gatherings, and solo morning walks. My baseball-loving heart knows I am not promised an endless season, but I am given moments. And if I am willing to pay attention and Plant Pauses, they might just grow into something lasting.

Here’s to cultivating the landscapes of our souls, one seed of presence at a time.

My hand in yours,
Rachel

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📝 Reflection Questions (to journal on and/or discuss in the comments)…

❓What moments in May are waiting for you to slow down and truly notice them?

❓What changes have you noticed in yourself since you started Planting Pauses, and how do you plan to continue cultivating those moments?

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🌳 SAVE THE DATE: May Treehouse Gathering
🗓 Sunday, May 18
⏰ 8PM Eastern
📍 On Zoom

Topic: Navigating Unkindness & Finding Your Way Back to Yourself

I’ve been carrying around a book I reached for one night when a friend’s unkindness left me spiraling. It made me realize how easy it is to get lost in the maze of hurt and confusion—especially when the pain comes from someone we care about.

In this gathering, we’ll talk about how to not get lost in that maze + the tool in that book that is helping do it.

I’ll share the kindest thing I did for myself in the wake of that hurt—and I hope it gives you something healing to hold onto, too.

Zoom link will be sent to paid subscribers next week—mark your calendar and bring your whole heart. You’re not alone. As always, I will record the teaching segment so it is available for replay if you can’t make it live.

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✨ DID YOU HEAR THE NEWS? I’m hosting a brand-new ONLY LOVE TODAY weekend retreat for givers at the 🌄 Art of Living Retreat Center, November 7-9.

IMAGINE:

• Letting go of the weight of daily responsibilities to recharge before the holiday rush.

• Breaking free from the cycles of stress and exhaustion.

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Early registration ends May 12! Sign up now to get an exquisite piece of Only Love Today artwork made by a talented local NC artist + an exclusive virtual Q&A with me before we gather.

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