From where I sat, the solution was obvious: put my son on the ice. He was the team’s best scorer. Why were the coaches leaving him on the bench?

This was house league hockey, many years ago. I can acknowledge now that winning wasn’t necessarily the most important thing. But I wanted him to score, to make the difference, perhaps even to save the game.

As my frustration grew, I began suspecting the coaches were deliberately holding him back, though I had no way of knowing.

My emotion finally spilled over. As the coaches headed toward the dressing room, I challenged them. I was angry and wanted an explanation. They became angry too.

I suddenly became ashamed of my behaviour. I suspect the children felt the tension, and my son may have been embarrassed. But was he as upset about sitting on the bench as I was? I’m not sure. I remember my own frustration far more clearly than I understand his experience.

We can become so certain we’re doing what’s right that we lose sight of the people we’re trying to help.

That memory returned when I heard a CTV News report about Nevada, a three-year-old soccer player in Florida. In the videos, he ran circles around the other children, scoring goals and dominating play. But a dispute between his parents and league officials brought police to the field, and his place in the league was reportedly in question.

His family said they were singling him out because of his soccer skills. The league director raised concerns about Nevada pushing during play and his parents’ conduct. After reading the reports, I was still unsure how the dispute escalated or how to reconcile the differing accounts.

What stayed with me, however, was a small child caught in an adult struggle. It reminds me how easily our own feelings and wants can overshadow the experiences of those who depend on us.

Perhaps our good intentions and care for others become entangled with our own needs, assumptions, and personal struggles: the baggage we carry. By baggage, I mean the unresolved things in our own lives that can shape how we respond to others, sometimes without our realizing it.

If that is true, it becomes especially important to recognize when we start making decisions based on personal need. As parents, coaches, clergy, politicians, or government officials, we are entrusted to serve the needs of those in our care. Unfortunately, when our own needs sneak in and begin directing our care, we can end up serving ourselves while believing we’re helping someone else.

How might we notice when our own concerns begin to crowd out the people we’re trying to serve? If our minds are set on where we think things ought to go, are we still listening to what they’re telling us? The people we claim to speak for may not experience the situation as we do.

At the rink, I wanted the coaches to listen to me. Looking back, I wonder whether I had listened enough to my son.