Month: November 2016

I’ve felt heavy in my heart today – it happens sometimes around this time of year. I’ve never really been good at not noticing the hurt, loneliness, or pain in the eyes of people, or etched onto their faces – the smiles that try to cover up that the reality isn’t quite what they once hoped. I would say it started last week when someone teared up when I wished them Happy Thanksgiving – a random stranger, working in a service industry and nobody had yet taken the time to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving. Her tears stopped me in my tracks, as her smile waned, and I tried for something to say that would be meaningful in our couple minutes of conversation. I couldn’t come up with much except to again wish her a Happy Thanksgiving, and tell her that I hoped it was one filled with joy and love. I walked off a little sad, my heart a little heavy.

Here’s the thing, y’all, in a way that boils it down – life can be hard.  It can leave you with a heart that has been battered, and expectations that are unrealized. It can smother you with loneliness, and seem to crush you with a weight of worry.  If that is where you are, please know – I might not know exactly who you are or what it is that weighs heavy on your heart, but I find myself more and more praying, especially during this time of year – that the peace which passes all understanding will settle upon those who need it.  I find myself praying that minds would be quieted, hearts would be mended, and that a sense of community would overtake the lonely – that they will see clearly how much they are loved.

I find myself praying – not that I won’t see that pain – but that I don’t get so wrapped up in my own to-do lists and busyness that I fail to see when someone needs a kind word. I find myself asking for a heart that is steadfast and eyes that show understanding.

I pray that just as in Isaiah 61, I can bring good news to the poor, comfort the brokenhearted, and proclaim that captives can be set free – not as one who merely speaks the words, but as one who has seen that happen in my own life. You see, life can give you all those things – the battered heart, loneliness, worry – but I know One who says that isn’t what you have to accept.

Thank you, Lord, for a garment of praise, beauty for ashes, and joy for mourning.

Romans 15:13 – May the God of hope fill you with all joy as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

This is a beautiful life.

There are very few things that represent high school Friday nights in the Fall like football. When most people look back on their memories from that time, they will remember moments spent cheering on teams or maybe hanging out with friends.  Then there will be those who remember playing the game. Playing the fight song. Leading the cheer that the crowd quickly begins to holler back.  There are fans, and then there are those who aren’t just showing up on Friday night, but start doing what needs to be done long before the crowds set up stadium seats, or stand in line for Aggie fries.

When JD started his high school years, I didn’t have much thought about our football team. We had won 3 games in 3 seasons.  3 games, y’all.  There was a game between two teams in town – both who had lost every game – and the crowd was excited because one of those teams would finally walk away with the win.  We actually won. Needless to say, with that kind of record, I had hopes that we would win some games, but I had no idea….

His Freshman year, every single away game we played was either a Homecoming or some special school event.  We were the team that was asked to play so that the home team would win on their special night. Only something unexpected happen.  We were good. We were really good.  We beat all those Homecoming teams. As the season progressed we actually had hopes that we might make a playoff game.  It was almost unheard of. The band played with all they had. We cheered and screamed and hi-fived and hugged and believed…and then, somehow after a Monday night shoot out game that would decide the District champion and runner up – we walked away the runner up and the chance to play in a playoff game.  We loaded up, drove three hours away….and lost that first game.  Yet, you would have thought we were state champions.

His Sophomore year we did it again.  Only this time we won the first playoff game and lost in round 2.  Then came his Junior year.  His Junior year we were tapped to be District Champions and lost in a heartbreaking game at home to become the runner-up.  We hit the road, knocked out an undefeated team in the first round, the team we had the bitter home loss to in the second round, and faced off against our own personal Goliath in the Regional Championship.  Out of our few losses during his high school years, Niceville is the only team we had lost to every time we played them.  Now we had to face them and their fans in a game the day after Thanksgiving, at their home.  I can’t remember how many games they had won at home, but it was a long streak of not losing.  As we closed the game that night playing All I Do Is Win, I’ll never forget how excited I was knowing that one trumpet player couldn’t have asked for a better Junior year. We defeated Niceville at home. We went on to lose the next week at the semi-final, but we couldn’t have been more proud.

Fast forward to this year. We graduated a lot of our team starters last year, and there was talk about maybe not having the best season. We still believed.  Our kids put in a lot of work.  We lost two games to end up the district runner up – again.  But we went on to win the first round of playoff games.  And something amazing happened.  Something that hadn’t happened in almost 40 years.  For the first time since 1977, Tate got to host a playoff game. It was a huge deal.  One last game at home.  JD’s Senior Year, and in an unexpected turn of events we would get one more time to see it all from his home field.  One more night of Friday Night Lights in the stadium that will hold a lifetime of teenage memories for him.  One more time to watch this year’s halftime show from the home side, while our fans cheered on.

I watched them last night knowing that win or lose this was the very last time I would sit in Pete Gindl stadium, the parent of a Showband member. This would be the last time JD played the fight song at home or marched out of these stands as a Showband member. The next time he watches football in this stadium, he’ll be a spectator.

As the clock wound down, and it became apparent that this would be our last game, the band still played with all they had, and my memory began to turn through the pages of the last few years. I heard those same sounds, smelled the smells of the concessions, cheered those same cheers a thousand times – but this time knowing it would be the last – I think I was even more aware. Wanting to commit each sensation to memory in hopes that as the years pass quickly by I will remember even a fraction of the feelings I’ve had sitting in those stands watching him do what he loves.

We wrapped up by playing the fight song, and All I Do Is Win, one more time. The band filed out of the stands to the track.  JD looked at me and says “What a way to go out. At home.”  I had to agree.  While nobody wants to lose at home – what a way to go out.  At home.  Surrounded by those who love and support you. Those who have loved and supported you through the years. 4-years of unexpected, but greatly celebrated, success. 4-years wrapped up at home.

When our halftime show was named this year, it was decided that it would be titled “Home, Sweet Home” as it is a tribute to our country and our community.  We had no way of knowing how aptly that would describe our season.  Home, sweet home….it’s where it all began in those endless hours of preparation…and last night it’s where it ended.

This is a beautiful life.

On this, the first day of November, I’d like to start my list of things I’m thankful for with: I’m thankful some of y’all aren’t the boss of me and my Christmas decorations, and I can decorate when I want!

Okay,  okay…that’s not really it.  Maybe.

Actually, when I sat down to write this, I was thinking about something else – and maybe one day this month I’ll write about that, but then my heart changed.

Saturday night, we had Trunk or Treat at the church.  Now, I’m not sure if y’all are aware or not, but it was darn near 90 degrees when we got out there a little after 3:00 to set up. Considering I was dressed as a cat lady, with flannel pajama pants (complete with little cats all over them), long sleeve cotton shirt that came with the pajama pants, and a fleece bathrobe, by the time we started at 4:00, I’m pretty sure I was sweating like I had been on the dang ARC machine at the gym for 45 minutes, instead of simply opening my trunk, getting some candy together, and sitting in a chair.  We got started, and soon people were filing through one right after the other.  The sun went down…and the mosquitoes came out.  Yet, we were still having a good time.  I say that to say, by the time it got close to 8:00, I was about ready to wrap up.  I was sitting in my chair, bathrobe covering everything I could cover to protect me from the mosquitoes, just people watching, when up walked this little girl.

This little girl and her siblings with their dark hair and eyes, and innocent sweet smiles, always bring happiness to my life.  They are a group of children being fostered by someone in our church.  She came up, smiled shyly, stood in front of me, and I naturally thought she wanted more candy.  I reached into my bucket of candy, pulled out a handful, smiled and said (in a quiet voice as if we were sharing a secret): “Here….You want some more candy? I’ll give you some more candy.”

With one hand partially covering her beautiful smile, she shook her head no.  I admit to being momentarily puzzled – I mean, I just offered her a large amount of candy and she said no.  I said: “You don’t want candy?  Is there something else you want?” And without thinking twice, she quickly takes the couple of steps to me and presses in for a hug.  A big hug.  A “put your candy bucket on the ground because I need two arms to hug you” hug. Of course, I hugged her back.  She releases me, looks up at me, and says: “You’re always just so comfortable! One more hug?” I smiled, and said of course.  I hugged her tight, feeling her baby fine hair against my face, holding an innocent child knowing that her life has had times of chaos, and was humbled that she thinks that I am comfortable. She picked up her candy bucket, ran off smiling….and left my heart a little bigger.

You see, y’all, there are many words we might want someone to describe us as – maybe you’re funny, intelligent, witty, daring, gregarious, a go-getter, a networker….and the list goes on and on…yet, somehow I doubt that any of us would have thought we would want to be described as comfortable.  That’s usually a word we use to describe our favorite reading spot, or pair of pajamas, or old sweatshirt. We want to be exciting. We want to be seen as adventurous and sparkling. And maybe, I am at times that, too…

But on Saturday night, that little girl showed me that being comfortable is right where it’s at. With her words and actions, she told me that in this crazy world, she finds me a place of comfort.  Even if for but a moment. You see, it’s great to be those other things, and we are all multifaceted, but if one person finds even a measure of comfort, solace, or peace from being near me – I’ll take that any day.

So tonight – on this first day of November – I am thankful that someone in this world thinks I’m comfortable.

This is a beautiful life.