Jersey #24

The day starts off early with a quiet breakfast and Bible time at the kitchen table (Psalm 106). I make a decaf latte – espresso, steamed milk, sugar free vanilla and sugar free caramel and it was smooth and well-rounded. (T. likes it so much he’s made it “his drink” – the T. special.) I am not alone, but the rest of the house was still snoring softly, each found in their own favorite, comfortable positions. T. is on right side, head covered by blanket, one leg out, one sock on. A. is flat on her back, covers to her chin, like she is waiting for her Prince Charming to give her the kiss which will bring her awake. N. is flat on his back, pillow under his back, neck arched, mouth WIDE open like a Venus Fly Trap awaiting its unsuspecting prey. K. is in a tight ball, on her left side hugging her blanket.

They are so precious when they are sleeping, they take my breath away. Their schedule has been very packed with the baseball/softball schedule, and my TANK has been up late each night this week – 11:30 p.m., 11:45 p.m. From one game or another, some in different cities, some at home, we have been finding ourselves getting home long after dark and long after an acceptable bed time. So they are not the usual early risers they had been during the school year.

I have bowls on the table ready for breakfast cereal, and one by one they appear, still warm from sleep. (This morning’s order K., A., N., T.) Now that they are all awake, our morning will begin. The list of chores is set, ready for someone to sign up and complete, and when they are finished the rest of the day is free for them, so they try to get it done before 11.(One of the chores is making mom a latte – I am no dummy! I got a twofer!!! And T. loves making them.) Words of encouragement help stop the brewing argument, “But I want to get to clean the bathroom, it’s my favorite job!” by knowing there is a bathtub over here that needs cleaning. “Oh great!” they say with excitement and run off, and I am left in a quizzical query, “Could that really be my boy?” I leave to go pick up the bread donations from the two bakeries in town and then I have a scheduled dental cleaning and check up.

I don’t know about you, but I really like going to the dentist; I always have. My dentist in this town has turned out to be my favorite of the past 18 years, for many reasons, and they love my Salvation Army insurance because they get paid so promptly and sufficiently. They make sure they compliment me every time I am there, whether myself or with my TANK, about the very thorough and inclusive medical protection offered under the umbrella of my insurance. I have to agree with them.

So I arrive slightly early and sit with my book: I have been looking forward to reading all week long. There hasn’t been a moment that stopped or even paused for these 14 days. Dave has been in Chicago for two weeks, and although I was glad my husband was able to receive such a blessed opportunity, it meant the fire under my schedule was going to get turned up.

On HIGH.

And not just regular HIGH, but Super Duper HIGH, like when the flames under the pasta pot are reaching out and up the sides of the cookware, with the contents boiling higher and higher, encroaching on the top and threatening to boil over. Reading helped pass the time lovingly and in what felt like no time, the dental hygienist Ms. Pearly Teeth calls my name and I follow her through the labyrinth to her workspace and find myself comfortable in the big dentist chair. It has been the first time my mind had been quiet for so long.

The lighting is not as bright as in the hallway, the view from the window is of a lush wooded area, and the music playing is soft. I feel relaxed already and don’t anticipate anything unusual to happen in this visit, just a cleaning and a new toothbrush and free floss. She is a quiet soul, who attends straight to her work after only a few sentences of conversation.

I can hear Ingrid Michaelson’s music over the speaker, and I keep myself from humming so I can hear her; she has a pretty voice. “If you are chilly, here take my sweater.” Oh, I really like this love song from her recording that she did without a label. “Your head is aching, I’ll make it better.” In my imagination I see her video of clowns and one person who is not a clown and sequentially not accepted because of the difference. “Cuz I love the way you call me baby” the bridge, the rhythm, the clapping. “For you take me the way I am.” And then it happened. And I couldn’t stop it.

The tears slid out, silently, running slowly down my cheek, and since my feet we elevated above my head, they went straight to each ear. First left, then right, then left again. I didn’t want to cry: I didn’t have time to cry. But there it was; and my ears were filling up like tiny swimming pools. Ms. Pearly Teeth was worried, “Did I hurt you? Was I too rough on your gums? Did I give you pain?” she asks quietly as she reaches for a Kleenex.

“No, please forgive me. You didn’t do anything wrong,” I strive to say with a steady voice, unsuccessfully masking the fact that I am thoroughly choked up.

“I must have given you too much time to think,” she shares, as she grabs another tissue for me and continues back to her inspection of my bicuspids and incisors and gums.

“For you take me the way I am.”

No, it isn’t the dental cleaning that has brought pain, but here is the first time I have had to reflect more about the pain this baseball season has been for my oldest, my T. It has been in the garbage can for so long, and the comparison between his ball team and ANK’s ball teams have been like night and day. A. plays in every game, and even though she isn’t a stellar athlete, she is in many positions and has been practicing pitching, from encouragement from her coach. N. has the world’s best coaching staff and has had a World Series Hall of Fame baseball season, excelling in so many ways especially as pitcher and catcher. (He is a kid-based ESPN highlight film every game: he plays outta his mind and I can’t keep his uniform clean from all of the grass and dirt stains from sliding and catching, etc.) K. is a fierce player, strong and decisive and has been a pitcher and 1st base all season. She hits, she bunts, she steals, she slides and she runs like the wind! Her coaches are over the moon about her and find ways to help her improve even more. (Last night they had her team party at the Alliance Salvation Army and she got the Best Attitude Award from her team – they love her and she loves them.)

And then there is T.s team.

T. has only played ½ of an inning in the month of June, and today’s date is June 26. He has played 15 minutes in the last 6 weeks, and that includes a few double headers in which he didn’t play for 16 innings. His coaches cruelly treat him like he is invisible, at practice and in games. This team has won and lost and they have done it all without him, exiling him and 2 other boys to the bench while the other 9 athletes are in the field every time, are in the batting lineup every time, are protected by the coaches to assure their play time every time. All of these other 9 are coach’s boys, or long-time friends of the family, These other 9 athletes, the “real team of starters” stay on the field even when they are hurt, limping, with sprained ankles, intense leg cramps or throwing up. There are no substitutes ever made for any of “the real players” even though the other benched athletes are ready and eager to be an active member of this team. It is not a team filled with elite athletes, but average kids who do well and also make mistakes.

“For you take me the way I am.” I have been longing for these coaches to take T. for who he is and let him be an active part of this team. Their behavior has passed unfair and stepped into treacherous, and they are in full authority of what they are doing. I have pleaded with them. My husband has talked with them, too. And for nothing, but another game without field or batting, another to add to the growing pile of disappointment.

T. has been to every practice possible and only missed a minimal amount of games, and those because they were scheduled at the last minute, for Memorial Day weekend which was a schedule conflict with the NEOSA BRASS performance weekend in Toledo. I have been so proud of him under this kind of terrible pressure – he feels terrible about the whole thing, and yet is still respectful to his coaches. He has lost his temper, but only a little in the privacy of his own room.

“For you take me the way I am.” When T. hurts, I feel a deep pain too, and am upset that I have not been able to persuade anyone to see it any different or do anything about it. I have been ineffective. I have been a failure. My new baseball friends on this team are embarrassed about being so excited about how much their athlete is playing, trying to hide it in my presence. I am excited about how well their boys are playing, too, especially when they are doing well. They have found it hard to sit around me, just as perplexed by these selfish coaching decisions, so I have frequently found myself following them to spend some time each game to talk and such. These selfish coaching decisions have made sure their sons play every inning of every game – an athlete’s dream. T. is a good athlete and loves hockey and loves baseball. Their seasons don’t conflict so up until now, he has had very good experiences in the spring with a baseball team. He hits well, he fields well, he throws well – as well as anyone else on this team, but these coaches won’t give him a second look. Or even a first look. He. Is. Invisible. My heart has been in conflict and torment over his burden.

So as Ms. Pearly Teeth returns the big dentist chair to its original locked and upright position, my ears now have the legitimate contents of the Erie Canal streaming out of each one onto my shirt, creating a very unique striping, zigzag pattern. It’s actually quite fetching, if it would have been intentional. She snags another tissue for me, with the concern, “I hope it will get better.” It won’t, I know that. T.’s baseball season lasts another 2 weeks, more games he won’t get to play, that his coaches won’t tell him why he won’t get to play. And they won’t take him the way he is – the magnificent, amazing, incredible man-in-training wearing a ball cap and jersey #24.

Hey Batter Batter, Hey Batter, Batter SWING!!

Things could be worse. Suppose your errors were counted and published every day, like those of a baseball player. ~Author Unknown

Ninety feet between home plate and first base may be the closest man has ever come to perfection. ~Red Smith

I believe in the Church of Baseball. I tried all the major religions and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I learned that, I gave Jesus a chance. ~Ron Shelton, Bull Durham, 1988

Baseball, it is said, is only a game. True. And the Grand Canyon is only a hole in Arizona. ~George F. Will, Men at Work: The Craft of Baseball, 1990

You gotta be a man to play baseball for a living, but you gotta have a lot of little boy in you, too. ~Roy Campanella

Are you crying? Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? There's no crying! THERE'S NO CRYING IN BASEBALL! – Jimmy Dugan (Tom Hanks) in A League of Their Own

It has been a long, cold, wet, drizzling spring. The entire month of May found me on the ball field, trying to focus a camera despite my chattering teeth, wrapped up in winter coats, sweatshirts, gloves, hats, quilts and afghans. My trunk was always equipped with a few chairs and a few blankets. I looked like I was living out of my minivan and trying to camp on a glacier – oi. We had one game canceled because of snow! Other games were played with the mercury in the thermometer registering 49 degrees and 52 degrees. For four weeks our home was fighting ear infections, strep throat, the flu and upper respiratory infections. We were a sick bunch, and it all had to do with our ball games.

Our TANK each play on a ball team this year. A. and K. in the M. Fastpitch League and T. and N. are on A. Hot Stove. Even though this has been a new community and there is a new set of directions to fulfill, there is again a constant in our life: the spring baseball team.

March brought about a devastating reality from our school system: since the tax levy was not passed for nearly every school systems in the region, all schools would close their doors at 3:15 p.m. after school, not permitting any group to meet or have activities. This made a deep impact upon all of the ball teams through the M. Fastpitch and the A. Hotstove, who were now frantically searching for a place to have their indoor practice until the weather broke. (Our March brought at least 18” of snow, sleet and freezing sludge – there were no outdoor practices to be found.)

The Salvation Army gym in Alliance became a home for 11 teams, the only cost would be some canned goods from each team for the Army food pantry, and all revolving their practices about in a schedule which would make your head spin. (Alright, it made my head spin. Baseball and oodles of extra dinners, baseball and a gazillion pots of coffee, baseball and homework tutoring, baseball and computer lessons, baseball and Veggie Tale videos, baseball and Easter preparations, baseball and Bible activities, baseball and Bible coloring books, baseball and new client family intake at 7:30 p.m.) Not only was our family involved with several of these teams, but we were now hosts for the other teams. It felt like 350 people were through our building every week: families with toddlers we needed to divert from the action, young moms and dads and several children not in the gym.

It was demanding and thrilling, exciting and inspirational. Our spring took a ministry connection opportunity through this intriguing sport which includes balls, bats and gloves. Our War Cry piles dwindled, as did our other publications. God connections were made every day. “What are working on?” as an honest question from a mom or dad exposed the fact I was working on some homework from my Master’s classes. The testimony about God’s Word and theological topics were evangelical, intriguing and exciting. God and Creation delved into a testimony about God at work in our present world. God and Women explored being a vessel for God to work with and through. Jesus Christ as God and Man exposed various points, all questioning Jesus’ placement in our faith. God was at work, long before we could plan or schedule anything and God continued to inspire us and strengthen us.

Our ministry reach has deepened in this community because of baseball and softball – baseball has never been a hobby or pastime for us. My next couple posts will be centered around baseball – some terrific, some heart-wrenching, some joy-filled, some just plain mad. But all of it – every pitch, slide, strike, catch and ground rule double have been to the glory of God.

So, whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God. 1 Corinthians 10:31 NIV

Contagious

For Judy and Bill

Contagious

You walk in the room, just like everyone else
But there is a difference from you.
Instead of an impossible problem
You see a solution on the horizon:
A solution that will be worth the wait.
You hope unswervingly
And I find your hope…contagious.

You join in the conversation, just like everyone else
But there is a difference from you.
Instead of an impossible person,
You see a heart that is hurting:
A person who is worth the wait.
You love lavishly
And I find your love…contagious.

You are part of a team, just like everyone else
But there is a difference with you.
Instead of an impossible disappointment
You see a future cooperation:
A future that is worth the wait.
You encourage aggressively
And I find your encouragement…contagious.

You live your life, just like everyone else
But there is a difference with you.
Instead of impossible demands
You embrace life with joy:
A joy that is worth the wait.
You embrace joyfully
And I find your joy…contagious

God’s love works profoundly- deeply - through you.
God’s love is the difference with you.
Your spiritual hospitality
Continues to draw people close:
Close enough to see love at work.
Close to your heart, close to God.
I find God’s love through you…contagious.
jsi

This is what the LORD Almighty says: “In those days ten men from all languages and nations will take firm hold of one devout believer by the hem of his robe and say, ‘Let us go with you, because we have heard that God is with you.’” Zechariah 8:23, New International Version