Taken a number of years ago, this is my favorite picture of Luke playing soccer. Luke didn’t just play soccer, he planned soccer. You can see that on his face. He imagined himself making the big plays before he ever kicked the ball.

Even as a tiny boy, Luke was full of confidence. Once he started to walk, he could outrun about anyone. As a toddler, Luke was that tyke standing on top of the highest monkey bars giving all the moms heart attacks at the park.

And I was that mommy crawling up into the hamster tubes at McDonald’s to get my son down when it was time to go home. Of course he was always at the very top of the play structure with the big kids. I can’t tell you how many times a five-year-old chastised me, “Babies are not supposed to be up here,” kindergartners would say. “Tell that to the baby,” I’d reply, chasing my toddler down the tallest slide or across the biggest structure, praying the whole time Luke didn’t hurt himself.

Like his Opa standing beside this horse in the picture, Luke has always taken chances. I’ve seen my son do amazing things I didn’t know a boy could do.

By two-years-old, Luke rode his bike without training wheels. The neighbors in our cul-de-sac would walk out their front doors just to watch him peddle all over the place. “You should charge money for this or put that kid in a circus,” a neighbor once told me. Many days I felt like I was the one in the circus trying to keep Luke safe.

I’ve watched my son crash and burn a number of times, but I’ve also watched him leave other kids in the dust. On his kindergarten report card it said, “Luke is too competitive on the playground.”

On the soccer field it was goal after goal with Luke ruling the turf when he was young. Coaches kept asking us to put him in competitive soccer, but we just wanted to do rec soccer with our little boy and have fun.

Finally, one of the guys who ran the league approached me one day after a game and said, “Your son is done with rec soccer. It’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to the other kids on the field. If he’s going to keep playing soccer he has to play competitive.”

So we put Luke in competitive soccer for a few years, and it was so much fun watching him play, but eventually we pulled him out. We just couldn’t afford to live and breathe soccer. Luke is one of seven siblings. We had an entire family to consider and soccer wasn’t our whole world.

This past Thursday, Luke played his last soccer game in high school. For most of the playoff game the score was 0 – 0. Both teams battling it out for a goal. Luke plays striker, he’s had a rough season missing a lot of goals. “I’m not good like I used to be,” he told me after one dismal game as we drove home together a few weeks earlier. “You need to just do the best you can out there. Play your heart out for your coach, for your team. It’s not about you.”

At 18, this is a hard lesson to learn: it’s not about you. So it made me really happy to see Luke doing his best for the team at the next game even though he was playing with the flu and was sore from his car accident.

A week after that, at the playoff game, the two teams were still tied at nothing in the fourth quarter. Luke received a pass about mid field and when he got the ball, two defenders were immediately on him. Luke kicked the ball over the defenders heads like he was passing to a teammate up field. But there was no teammate up field. In a burst of speed, Luke received his own pass and beat the defenders to the goal for a score. I flew out of my chair screaming and I’m usually not that kind of mom. But it was such a bold, beautiful move. The kind of play Luke did all the time when he was small and full of confidence and thought he ruled the world.

Unfortunately in the last two minutes of the game, Luke’s team lost. But I can’t forget that gutsy play Luke made to score that goal. The next day Scott came home with the newspaper. He wasn’t able to make the game so hadn’t seen Luke’s goal. “Look,” he said, reading the newspaper to me. “This says Luke assisted his goal and made the goal. The paper messed this up.”

“It’s not messed up,” I said. “Luke did pass the ball to himself and then made that shot. It was beautiful.”

“A play like that takes a lot of confidence,” Scott said.

“I know,” I answered. “But I was more proud of Luke when they lost. He hugged all the players on the other team after the game even though on the field it was all blood, sweat, and tears.”

The thing is, I know how many times my son has failed on these risky all or nothing plays and it just doesn’t stop him. This boy came out of my womb with confidence. He’s not afraid to get hurt. And he’s not afraid to miss. Watching Luke I’ve learned the beauty of confidence. And what I find most beautiful is that sometimes you’re going to fail, but not every time.

Confidence really isn’t about winning. Confidence is about trying.