Have you ever thought it was over?
Scott Hatteberg was a catcher for the Red Sox when he ruptured a nerve in his elbow. He could no longer throw a baseball.
It was over.
But it wasn't!
The Oakland A's signed him on, messed up elbow and all... as a first baseman. Scott is my favorite character in Moneyball, which is based on a true story. The movie has some words that I don't like in it. Other than that, oh, how I loved it.
Scott is offered the job right in his living room. He is trying to take it in and finally blurts out, "I'm a catcher."
The words come out cold from the general manager's mouth: "You're not a catcher any more." OUCH. A million emotions play across Scott's face, like shadows in the sunlight. "But you can be a first baseman, if you want."
An envelope with a contract inside is left on his coffee table. The men leave. What follows is a picture that speaks volumes... a wife, a little daughter in pajamas, and Scott in a wordless hug. Relief. Hope. Embryonic Joy. Her husband's dream is not over. Maybe he can be himself again with her. Yes, maybe starting tonight. Mommy and daddy are happy.
Life goes on.
Yogi Berra, another baseball guy, coined the phrase, "It ain't over till it's over." In baseball and in life, that is the truth. It's why so many people stay till the end of the ninth inning. It's why we watch the sun set, and pray when we hear bad news, and why we look for one more present under the Christmas tree.
Because human beings were made to hope. To believe in the impossible. And to know the Source.
On Friday morning, just before 10, I felt joy slip through my ears and settle deep into my bones. It has been a while.
I felt exactly like Eleanor in Sense and Sensibility when Edward tells her it is SHE who he loves. SHE dissolves into emotional chaos, as wave upon wave bubbles up and out of her heart, into the folds of her apron. Eleanor's tears and laughter give shape to her joy, relief, elation, victory, and finally, surging through the doubts and disappointments of the many months she has suffered... hope comes. And it cannot be stopped, any more than a wave can be told, "do not dare break on the shore!" It would laugh, cresting and rolling, and break twice as hard.
My daughter has been going through the things that it would seem most thirteen year olds must face. To protect Hannah's privacy, I won't name the things. Suffice to say, junior high is the crucible of childhood, isn't it?
So, because of something that was causing her pain, I was not looking forward to Friday. We had FUN plans and I was trying so hard to make the best of it, all the while hurting for my daughter.
Now, something happened a week earlier. I had prayed, Lord, I know we missed the signups for the youth group ski trip, but seeing as how it's on this weekend when the Bad Thing is going to happen, could you open a space up for Hannah? It's a small thing, but You are a Big God! Please with a cherry on top? I had stood in my kitchen praying that way and then I sunk back into my evening chores, nursing my mother pain.
We asked three different times. The trip organizers could do nothing. They felt bad. We felt worse. But I forgot
and put on my brave face.
I like this part of the story! It's 10:00 on Friday in my heart again. The show is just finishing up, and my cell phone is ringing. It's my husband and he has news.
Shane just emailed. (That's Hannah's youth pastor.)
Hannah can go on the ski trip.
Loud silence, incredulity on my end.
A space has opened up. She has to leave by 1:30.
I repeat the words one by one as if touching something beautiful, just to know it's real.
Tears come.
It feels like my wedding day, like the first day of summer, like Christmas, like the Third Day.
Everything is going to be alright. I will fight for you, God says. And then He does and I'm all amazed and blown away by Love.
The war rages, but a battle has been won. And you know what happens when a great battle is won... it often becomes the turning point in a war.
Friday at 4:30 AM, I left a message for my daughter on an orange piece of construction paper: "Nothing is impossible with God!"
When I got home and saw it, I had to laugh. And cry a little again.
The ziti has been pulled, hot and steaming, out of the oven. Bags upon bags of well-chosen, yet ridiculously wrapped gifts stand ready by the door. But it is not time to pack up the car for Grandma and Poppa’s house yet.
No, first, we must peek into the manger to see the Baby. To hear the lambs bleating their welcome, and to hear the mother sighing happy sighs, and the daddy’s heart beating louder than the donkey’s brays…
Stepping outside on Christmas Eve is enchanting. Darkness is pushed back because even the moonlight is brighter, as if the great orb rejoices too over the Birth. Yes, it is a Birthday moon cake, always, and the stars are candles.
Plates and plates of homemade cookies wait for us at our little church, and a pageant of sorts too. It is a night where angels sit on laps, giggling beneath lopsided halos. They are waiting for their turn in telling the Christmas Story. Pastor Jeff will call them up front soon. Kings mingle with shepherds, listening for their cue. Sheep and a donkey walk on two feet each, and there, most fun of all, is my son’s friend Ethan, a handsome one hump camel!
Staring at this happy, squirming band, a thought floated in, like a snowflake on a welcoming mitten. God wants me to be part of His story, one hump camel that I am. My wings are lopsided. I stink of sin sometimes. But I am in The Play.
Funny, how, shepherds turned into children filled with joy on that Judean hillside, and two thousand years later, children turn into shepherds filled with joy. And so, in a sense, they are still telling the ancient story, which never grows old.
Thank You for writing me in, God.
It was just a few words.
Easy to brush by them, to miss them. But there they were, little and passionate, calling to me like a person stranded on an island who sees a boat.
“The voice of the LORD makes the deer give birth.”
I have always looked for God in the Grand Canyons of life… and I have found Him again and again. He has appeared to me in a newborn’s eyes, and close to the sea, my toes sinking in sand and wonder. I have lit lamps during storms, comforting my children, all the while needing someone to comfort me, as the awesomeness of God rumbled over my roof. I’ve heard Him in the thunder, seen flashes of His Face in the lightning.
God is big and beyond comprehension. But it’s that loving, gentle God I long for, Who will come into the lonely and confused places. I want God to come in and mend the soul tatters, the pieces of me that no one sees.
Who sees the doe, deep in the woods, in holy agony, bringing a fawn into the world? God sees, and not as a mute witness, but an active participant, calling a living thing into existence.
“The voice of the LORD makes the deer give birth.”
And I am suddenly…
Wanted
Cherished
Valuable
Beautiful
Loved
Ever been jolted? I was walking on the greenway last night, drinking in the sunshine and the leaves changing before my eyes, and happily Facebooking on my phone.
Then, I encountered some folks with a couple of mean-looking, gigantic dogs that looked like they wanted to eat me for dinner. My heart sunk. Those weren’t leashes, those were CHAINS for pete’s sake. As I walked by them, as close to the edge of my side of the path as humanly possible, I noticed they had to stop to let me pass. With sweet and quiet words, they were calming their animals down, convincing them, probably, that I wasn’t very tasty!
I was scared to death. Then, I got mad! Why do people bring dogs like that out in public? I thought to myself. Why endanger perfectly innocent people? I was absolutely seething on the inside. It was ugly.
Then, a lady wearing sunglasses and a hat walked past me. As a matter of fact, she was passing me because she was walking faster than me. She turned, still keeping her pace to say, “Isn’t it a beautiful day?”
I was dumbfounded, but I managed to quickly sputter, “YES! Yes, it is!”
JOLTED.
Jolted out of my righteous, ridiculous anger. Jolted out of my prideful attitude, and yes, jolted off my high horse. I had missed 20 minutes of my life being angry, bitter, and just ticked. How many times do we miss 20 years, no waste 20 years, being angry or bitter when we could just let it go?
Suddenly, there were the trees again, gleaming golden in the afternoon sun, the blue sky, sharp and clear, my heart, set right again.
It’s a shock to your system, but it’s a great thing to be jolted. Thank you to the lady in the hat and sunglasses. Or the angel.
Meow...
Meow...
Meow...
Biscuit is the newest member of our family and yes, he is a cat. Gulp, I'm a cat person!
Whenever I hear a few meows in a row... plaintive, sad, vulnerable meows... I know he's stuck, trapped by his own curiosity and mischief-seeking. In a closet, in a bathroom, in the pantry. I always follow the meows till I find him. Sometimes Biscuit darts out of there like a bullet. Other times, he takes a fraction of a second to brush up against my calf as a thank you. The guest bathroom, which is off-limits to the cat, is never as cool as it seems once he's left there in the dark. When will he learn?
He likes being found. And I like finding him.
When I released Biscuit from the prison of the guest bathroom Saturday night, I thought how much like that cat I am. I get into trouble... sometimes it feels like A LOT. :) And all I have to do is cry out to God. He is more than happy to release me to get out there and try again.
You are so merciful, GOD! Meow...
Yes, a perfect morning had begun. I had a tall cup of Starbucks coffee in my hand and a walk on the beach to take. But I forgot my sunglasses! And I was already way past our little rented townhouse. Kicking myself, and sighing, I stepped into the sand and into an experience I will never understand or forget...
It wasn't long before I noticed an unusual cloud, gigantic and pure white, hovering over the rising sun. Not passing over the sun, but staying there.
Intrigued, I kept strolling and waiting for it to sail lazily across the horizon. Finally, a "too good to be true" thought laced its way into my mind. Could God be covering the sun with a cloud because I forgot my sunglasses?
The word impossible broke up into perhaps, then morphed into totally likely!!! I pictured God smiling as I pieced it all together while sipping my coffee shot through with caramel.
And that morning, I remembered what I forget sometimes in the day to day... the God of the universe is my Daddy. Thank you, Dad! I love you back.
A note from my darling sis, Kimmie:
Have Hannah and Josh gone school shopping? I am looking thru a target circular and picking out my wishful purchases. Today is a shag rug, NY lamp, bean bag toss game and sharpies. :)
I loved shopping for school supplies. I remember what a big deal it was to pick out a folder. It would always be a Lisa Frank folder but the choices were difficult in choosing!! I will always love the smell of new pencils and the sound of a trapper keeper opening. It meant new beginnings. A fresh start. The book bag, new clothes, writing utensils, erasers and lunch boxes. They all carried with them lessons to be learned both in the life and in the class rooms as Summer memories lingered in the air. Good stuff!!
Are you coming to our BACK TO SCHOOL BASH?!!! Come on out to Matthews and party with the Sidewalk Prophets! And we invite you to bring school supplies for kids who need them, who need the joy of a NEW folder! All the 411 here:
Phil and Jen need your help. Their daughter battles a disease that only about 100 people fight... she suffers from chronic pain. They need to get Riley to a hospital in Boston...
You can read Riley's story and help here:
http://jenniferlamphear.com/?p=26
Or go to any Citizens South Bank to donate safely as well!