March 31, 2006
I was watching an HBO documentary on the Boston Redsox. They were giving the whole story of the team, from the curse of the Bambino (the sultan of swat) to the 2004 playoffs, in which they pulled off one of the greatest comebacks in sports history. They were interviewing people about their love for the BoSox, and how heartbroken they were when the Mets came back to crush their hopes in the ’86 series. (sports nuts can correct if I have the wrong year.) The interview told of what it was like to have parents die having never seen their team win. 2004 season momentos were offered at the tombstones of lost loved ones. I identified most closely with the vehement hatred that the Boston fans have for the Yankees. For that reason, alone, it was a compelling story.
I live with a girl who just doesn’t understand. Don’t get me wrong. I love my roommate. But as the story came to a breath taking close, I heard her in the other room. “I don’t know what you’re watching, but it sounds really boring.” She said these words as she turned the corner to see me, sitting cross-legged, tears streaming down my face.
I love baseball. It is a part of my family identity. It is a part of my American identity. And I dare say that God himself loves the smell of wet grass and pine tar.
And so it is with great anticipation and expectations that I welcome the 2006 baseball season. I can’t wait to sit along the 1st base line watching our minor league team hit it out of the Joe, all the while ignoring that they are a NYY affiliate. But I don’t care. I just love to be there. And who knows? Maybe this will be the year my Orioles will stand in the champaign soked locker room come October.
March 31, 2006
My sister and I were talking the way sisters talk – about life, marriage, babies, et al. She breezed over a comment that gave me a moment of pause. You Calvinist out there will appreciate this.
“The baby inside of me was known by God since before the foundations of the earth. There was only one DNA combination that would make her the way she is. So, since the foundations of the earth, Matt and I were meant to be together.”
I don’t have a neat way to end this blog, only to say that when she said that, and continued on to speak about whatever her primary point was, I stopped her and had her repeat it. The implications of that comment are numerous, and more than worth an afternoon of pondering in the park.
How can I get out of the office….
PS. She also said that at times she has struggled with feeling trapped in marriage. That was the case until Jesus told her that she was FREED into marriage. She said that in marriage, you no longer have to play the cat and mouse game. You are free to be who you are and be loved unconditionally. Apparently, pregnancy makes you intraspective and wise.
March 30, 2006
My sister is full term. Full term and miserable. It’s not just the physical pain that comes with BH contractions, a baby constantly kicking your bladder and general discomfort doing daily activities, such as sitting and walking. Her spirit is tired. Three weeks ago, she lost her cervical plug. Most women go into labor within a few days of that. Every day, she has more signs of being near the end, but everytime she goes to the doctor, he tells her “No change. She’s stayin’ put right now.” And the discouragement continues.
She told me this morning, after another such appointment with the doctor, that she is emotionally drained from the roller coaster she’s been on. Her excitement wanes when she realizes that the “changes” she is feeling don’t seem to progress her towards labor.
“The doctors tell me that these changes really don’t mean anything. They are steps in the right direction, but they just don’t seem to get me anywhere. It’s like I get excited seeing all of these signs, and I feel like something big is about to happen. But nothing does.” *heavy exhale*
I know exactly how she feels. Unfortunately, the women in my family are known for their fierce loyalty, not their patience
“Sometimes I see a light ahead. Hope is not enough.”
March 29, 2006
When I stand on the shore of my beautiful city and watch the waves roll in, my mind is swept away by the complexity of the Creator. He splashes the landscape with colour and texture that reflect His Brilliance. He loves to leave us speechless with the things He has made for our pleasure.
I think that there were things He made and thought, “This is a very functional creature.” I am convinced this was His thought as He created the earthworm. And then I see things and think that He was just having fun. There seems to nothing functional about the Leafy Sea Dragon. He was just showing off.
The tide of images floods my mind as I think of the wonder I have seen in His handiwork. But what hushes my thoughts and fills my heart with hallelujahs is the thought of the things He made that are unmet my human eyes. Deep in the ocean’s depth and at the farthest reaches of His universe are wonders that He made entirely for His pleasure alone.
And He is taken with me? I stand amazed.
March 29, 2006
How many half truths did I bear witness to ’til the proof was disproved in the end?
And all You ever wanted…
March 24, 2006
I’ve lost 10% of my body weight. I know. Yeah for me. In addition to having no clothes that fit, and no money to rectify that, I have discovered another by-product of weight loss.
Last night, as I watched the Duke Blue Devils go down, I imbibied 2 beers. 2. two. dos. deux. Apparently when you lose weight, you also lose your ability to hold your alcohol. And I am one of those people who takes liberties when buzzed that they would not normally take. Mild liberties. Not Anna Nicole liberties. Nevertheless, liberties.
My little sister and I have commited to reading James 3 together three times a week with the desire that His Word will refine our speech into something honoring to Him. Saturating myself with James 3 does little good if I am also, albeit unintended, saturated with Yuengling. So folks, you heard it here first. Cheryl is giving up beer. Game over. Roll Credits.
As Bo would say, “Jumanji.”
March 22, 2006
How very strange it is to miss Someone I’ve never met.