Friday Favorites: January 26, 2018

It's Friday! I'm linking up with A Little Bit of Everything, Grace and Love and Momfessionals today to share some favorites from the week (or maybe even a few weeks ago. It's been awhile!)

1. Last Chance U

I just finished Season 2 of Last Chance U on Netflix and cried like a baby. It's a documentary focused on the football team at East Mississippi Community College. Many of the athletes there are trying to get back to the Division I schools that have dismissed them for academic or disciplinary problems. I can't recommend it highly enough. Although, I will tell you in all caps: THE LANGUAGE IS BAD. REAL BAD. I find myself cheering like a maniac for these kids - both in football and in their lives. The best part is the real-live-Tammy-Taylor, Brittany Wagner , who is the Athletic Academic Adviser.  Girlfriend has her work cut out for her, but she loves the fire out of these boys. She forgives and gives grace when you know that she wants to throw a football right at their stubborn heads. It is a joy to watch. Recently I heard writer and podcaster, Sophie Hudson, describe a movie as "having the Gospel written all over it." That is absolutely true of this series. For real. It's so darn good.

Miss Wagner giving somebody a piece of her mind

Miss Wagner is not buying it from Ollie

Miss Wagner tracks down a player who is skipping class

Miss Wagner visits a player who went on to big things

Miss Wagner has to say good-bye to her athletes 

2. Chili w/ Sweet Potatoes

Photo from www.tastesoflizzyt.com

I've been doing the Whole30 program this month and I happened on this chili recipe that is compliant with the program. At first I thought it would be totally weird with the sweet potatoes, but I promise you it was so good. This recipe makes a ton of chili, so you might want to half it or freeze some.

2 lbs of hamburger
1 red onion, chopped
1 tsp. minced garlic
1 can tomato sauce (29.5 oz.)
2 cups petite diced tomatoes with juice
3 cups beef stock
1 cup carrots, sliced
5 cups sweet potatoes, peeled and cubed
2 bay leaves
1/2 tsp thyme
2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 tsp. black pepper
1/2 cup chili powder
dash of oregano
dash of red pepper flakes

Brown, hamburger, garlic and onion in large saucepan and drain off fat. Place cooked hamburger in slow cooker and add all other ingredients. Cook on low 6-8 hours or high 4-6.

3. God Help Me by Plumb

For me, January has been very . . . well . . . January-ish. Nothing terrible, nothing exciting, just kind of blah. January is supposed to be new and exciting. We're supposed to have vision and motivation. I've been intimidated by the goal setting and resolution-ing I see happening on social media because I feel a little stuck. Here's some real talk: You know those periods when you doubt yourself and wonder if your dream or goal is dumb and you've been wrong all along? Those days when you compare your insides to other's outsides by wondering how it is that everyone is killing it and yet for you, just managing what to make for dinner seems a monumental task? Days it also seems that like Paul says in Romans, "I don't understand what I do. For what I want to do, I do not do and what I hate, I do."? In these periods, sometimes faith feels far away and trust seems difficult. My brain knows that He is there, but I can't seem to find Him. I don't know what season you might be in. Maybe you're kicking butt or maybe you're wondering if and when God will move or even wondering if He hears you at all. Either way, this song I heard this week is a good start for seeking Him when you're having trouble finding the words. 

4. Trader Joe's Face Mask Trio

One of the greatest indicators that I am experiencing January-ish-ness is when I spend more time in pjs and workout clothes than out of them which is not necessarily a bad thing. It might be exactly what we need. When I do that there also tends to be lots of bubble baths, facial masks and Netflix. This is combination I find quite delightful as long as it doesn't extend into Februaryishness.  I bought this set of face masks at Trader Joe's during the holiday season as one of those back up gifts you want to have in emergency situations, but ended up gifting it to my own self. I'm not sure if you can still find it at TJ's, but if not, I also got this Dead Sea Essentials Mud Mask and it was pretty great, too.

5. A Portrait of My Life

Photo Credit: Loudoun Times-Mirror

In thinking about new years goals and learning to say "no" to some things in order to say "yes" to other things, I read something which encouraged writing down where you spend your time to include activities that drain you or take your joy away and then things you love - things that give you life and bring you joy. I love writing, of course, and I'm trying to figure out how to order my life so that I make it priority. But that wasn't the first thing I wrote down. At this point in my life, I'd rather watch my kids play their favorite sports more than just about anything else in the world. It doesn't matter if they are starting players or only hit the floor/field for a minute or two. There is very rarely a time I will miss watching a game. I imagine that some folks might find that pretty pathetic and think that I need to get a life. I imagine that some might think that when these boys are gone I won't know what to do with myself. 

Perhaps, they're right. But, I'll deal with that problem when I get to it. Watching them compete has been the rhythm of my life for so long now. And frankly, I'm not even close to over it. I am unapologetically in love with watching these kids play. And when some photographer catches a moment like this one? It's not only that this perfectly shows the size of the fight in this dog, it's the fact that this shot shows fuzzy ol' me up in the corner, hands clasped in earnest, bearing witness to my kid and his teammates playing their hearts out. This is, in essence, the portrait of my life for the past 10 to 15 years. I know I'm lucky to have the flexibility to be able to be there for these moments. And I do not regret a single road trip, a single time when my back felt like it was going to break from sitting in the bleachers and not even that time when I acted a fool and the ref at a basketball game told me to "Relax, ma'am!".

(Listen, I said I was sorry, okay, but it was a bad call. Really bad. And it was the second bad call in a row from that guy. I didn't know that the whole gym would suddenly fall quiet or that he was standing right next to me when I yelled out "THAT IS JUST TERRIBLE." Also, if you must know, his shorts were too short. Anyway, I learned my lesson. Still: #noregrets)

PS If you are in South Riding and you aren't showing up to watch the Freedom Varsity  basketball games - girls or boys - you are missing out. And this is not remotely a shameless plug about my kid. We've got some players who are magical to watch. We've got a kid who has busted every single basketball record at our school. I'm telling you. Those dudes put on a show. I know everyone has 7,000 things going on, but if you find a free night, check out the schedule here.

PPS This is the same face my kid makes when I serve broccoli.

Have a great weekend everyone!

Disclosure: The View From Behind Home Plate is a participant in the Amazon Services LLC Associates Program, an affliate advertising program designed to provide a means to earn small fees by linking to amazon.com

In Defense of Joy, Celebration & Dawg Piles

I've written here before about how to be a delightful fan. Athletes are under a lot of scrutiny because those who behave badly get a lot of press. In youth sports, parents and their children are under the same microscope for the same reason. For any youth athlete, an emphasis on sportsmanship is important and I am incredibly grateful to the coaches who have taught and modeled good sportsmanship to my kids throughout the years. There is a right way to both win and to lose. 

In the NFL there is a penalty for too much celebration. I understand that sometimes it gets to be too much. I am never in favor of taunting or belittling an opponent with celebration, of course. As well, there is a popular quote that is prevalent among athletes, even the young ones. It discourages too much enthusiasm and is known as the "Act like you've been there before." rule. I'm pretty sure my husband would ascribe to this theory. But, I was contemplating these ideas recently and this is what I thought. 

It's pretty profound, so get ready.

Those kinds of rules? They totally bum me out.

READ THE REST HERE.

Rainy Monday Daybook: 5-22-27

For Today:

Looking out my window:

It's early and raining on and off. The sky has lightened since I work at 5:30 am, but I don't expect it to get much brighter. I'm so sad I missed snapping a photo of the family of deer who walked by earlier as my phone was upstairs. She and her babies don't seem to mind the grey day. I'm not a fan of rainy days, but today I think I'll take my cue from them.

I am thinking:

that nothing is going to get done around here if I don't pull myself away from poring through photo books and old computer files of my boys. I got an email that the senior moms need to send some early photos of their players to the parent who is creating a slideshow for the baseball banquet. That has led me down a rabbit trail of emotions and giggling and I don't know how to stop.  I found this one yesterday of the day we brought Drew home from the hospital. I feel like Kyle is looking at Joe with a "Dude, how do you think this whole thing is gonna work?" face. And as usual, Joe is just going to let both little brothers know exactly how things are gonna go down.

I am thankful:

for another chance or two to see our Varsity baseball team play. If you read this post on Friday, you know it was a "win or go home" game for them. The game was rained out on Friday, so we played on Saturday. One of the moms had to be away on Saturday, so she asked if I could text her updates, but to please not worry about it too much because she wanted me to enjoy the game. 

Well, as much as I intended to enjoy the game, I more or less endured it. It was a painfully close game. The Lovely and Talented Mrs. C. and I went to the restroom at one point and as we watched from the outfield on our way back to the our seats, our boys scored a run. So that was that. We never went back to our seats. No phones, no water, no snacks, no sitting. We stayed until the end. My sister-in-law took this shot of us, but you can't even see us because we were waaayyy out in right field. We are completely cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs.

I am thankful for getting to watch boys on both teams playing their hearts out. I'm thankful for a chance to win or lose again and for a chance to hang out with my straight up weirdo baseball mom friends a couple of more times. From now on it's all gravy. I will enjoy the fire out of these post season games.

One of my favorite things:

All the plaid and all the gingham and all the checks for spring. I have had a long time addiction to stripes which has changed into an addiction to plaid. There are some adorable tops out there right now. Here are some of my favorites.

Plaid Tie-Front Blouse

The tie front on this is so cute and it comes in three different color options.

Mixed Gingham Shirt

I have this pop over shirt in white and a navy/white gingham, so I don't need this one in my life, but maybe you do.

Madewell Plaid Tie Back Top

This one ties in the back. So cute.

Patchwork Plaid Bow Dress

I will definitely buy this for Fake Daughter. I have to apologize if you have a Real Daughter and then click on this because it appears to be sold out in the real world. But if you have a Fake Daughter like me you can get this in whatever size you want and come to think of it in Fake World it's 100% off, too. Isn't it going to be so cute?

I am wearing:

black and white striped pjs from Old Navy and a longsleeve black tshirt that says "Make Things Happen" which is not really my current mood. Last week was a blur of activity and I'm hoping to slow down this week. I might make a thing happen here or there, but not a whole lot of things.

I am reading:

I am slowly, slowly getting near the end of My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry which has nothing whatsoever to do with the quality of the book and everything to do with the fact that May is trying to kill me. It is a quirky, unique, delightful book. I definitely recommend it.

I am watching:

I'm not sure if anyone else in the world is still watching Grey's, but I watched most of the most recent season in the past few weeks on my iPad because Celtics basketball is on my real tv all the darn time and with all due respect to the rabid fans in my house, I don't care one iota about the NBA. 

I hate ironing with a passion so I don't do it until I have a huge basket overflowing with wrinkled clothes. Last week, I tackled that huge basket and ironed for what seemed like an eternity while watching Parks and Rec. It's hilarious. I've always loved Amy Poehler, but Chris Pratt and Aziz Ansari are also geniuses in this show. I am way late to this party, and I was simply giddy when The Lovely and Talented Mrs. C. reminded me that Rob Lowe shows up soon.

I am listening to:

I planted what seemed like 7,000 flowers in my front yard beds a couple of weeks ago, so I listened to the podcast, S-Town ,while I was digging and schlepping Miracle Gro around. It is wildly popular right now and I can see why. The story is compelling and the characters are fascinating. While you will definitely want to have in your ear buds (not suitable for little ears) and it's not a happy tale, I recommend it for a long road trip or getting through tasks which don't require your full attention. Great story telling here.

I am hoping:

For perspective this week. As I sat in the pew at church yesterday, after rushing in late from a basketball game, "perspective" was the word that the Lord laid on my heart. That along with "Watch it, Sister, because you are teetering mighty close to the edge of a gross amount of self-involvement." Ouch.

May is a crazy busy season for everyone and this May for my family is full of joy and excitement and chaos and a big ol' dose of "HOW IN THE WORLD IS HE ALREADY GRADUATING???" I am quite consumed with this senior year business, baseball season and my list of to-dos. I think the Lord gives us our own set of tasks each day and it's our job to follow our own path, but I also know He gives us the ability to avert our gaze to others and expects that we do so.

I am hoping to remember that there is a mom out there that isn't hoping for one more baseball game for her kid to play. She's hoping for just one friend for her kid to play with. There's a mom out there who isn't stressed over all the activities that go along with high school graduation because her son was lost to a terrible accident so he didn't make it to high school at all. There is a mom who isn't filling out medical forms and looking at housing options and paying bills for college because she can't afford to send her kid to school.

I'm hoping for joy in this season and a healthy dose of perspective. I heard Your message, Lord. I'm hoping to heed it.

I am learning:

that as much as I love to watch my boys play, I do have a limit. After the "this is so close that my heart is going to beat out of my chest" baseball game on Saturday, I went to two basketball games for Kyle. This is not what I needed in my life. A piano concert would have been a better choice. Basketball games are fast and physical and sweaty and chaotic. Most of the time I am able to recognize and deal with the climate that is quite different from baseball. I can abide some smack talking and some swagger because that's just part of the game once the players get to high school. But I'm learning that on certain days, it's all a little too much. And on certain days there is a kid or maybe there are two kids covering your kid and they're all up in his face and their lips are moving and you really want to think they're saying, "Well, hello, friend. Isn't this an enjoyable activity we've chosen this evening? Best of luck to you."  But they're not saying that. And sometimes there are fans on the other side egging that stuff on and you have to try really hard to keep your bottom in your seat and your mouth closed. I am learning how to do that from my son. Because from my view, for the most part, he keeps his eyes on his own teammates and his mouth shut. And as frustrating as it might become, the boy just plays. So I'm learning that although I may have a limit, the Lord equips our children for every challenge - even up in your face, defiant, threatening challenge. And we mamas must sit back and watch them meet those challenges. Play on, Son. You make me proud.

In my kitchen:

It might be dreary outside, but I got sunshine on a cloudy day because Nancy and I went to the Farmer's Market on Saturday and I stocked up on some juices including this Sassy Sunshine juice with orange, tumeric, ginger and cayenne from Greenheart Juice Shop. 

Post Script:

Have y'all seen these ladies discuss the ridiculousness of women's swimsuits? You must. Go. Now.

Shared Quote:

I've lots of friends who are grieving and I've learned from them how often they are judged on if they're "doing it right" . . .even by well meaning, loving, concerned people. So when I read this quote in the book I'm reading it stuck out to me. 

"People in the real world always say, when something terrible happens, that sadness and loss and aching pain of the heart will lessen as time passes, but it isn't true. Sorrow and loss are constant, but if we had to go through our whole lives carrying them the whole time, we wouldn't be able to stand it. The sadness would paralyze us. So in the end we just pack it into bags and find somewhere to leave it."

- Fredrick Backman, My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry

Those of us who are trying to help the grieving? Perhaps we might just be open and willing to be a safe place for someone to leave their bag of sadness? Not so that we can swoop in to analyze it or fix it or dump it out and flush it down the drain, but just to be the somewhere that they can leave it.

A moment from my day:

I'm so grateful to get to wash this smelly thing again so that it will live to see another game. So grateful.

Closing Notes:

I'm a sucker for a good smelling candle so if you are as well, I want to share what is making me ten kinds of happy this morning. This Orange Blossom and Driftwood Candle by White Barn is a game changer on a dreary day. It smells like sunshine and spring and all the good feelings.

Happy Monday, Friends!

Prompts from thesimplewoman.blogspot.com

(This post contains some affiliate links and I will be compensated if you make a purchase after clicking on certain links.) 

Summer Night Musings on a Monday

I was going to write a Daybook today because that seems to be a Monday type of thing to do but then all the other Monday things came along. So now I find myself at this computer at 8:00 pm on the deck with a glass of wine and this blank page which is not lending itself to nice, tidy categories. It's possible I'll just sit here and look at the sky and the trees and listen to the birds because SUMMER IS MY JAM, Y'ALL.

If you didn't know, it's officially the first day of summer today. Here in Northern Virginia, my car said it was 92 degrees, the sun was steamy bright, the pool was open and I didn't have to be anywhere until my 10:40 AM orthodontist appointment. We had boys - even those I didn't birth - in and out of the house all day and the smell of sunscreen hung thick in the air. My dog is now sitting next to me and he is not even jumping up on my legs and trying my patience. So all that to say, even though I have always known it, at this moment, I am 100% sure as all get out that Jesus loves me.

Our first week of summer hasn't necessarily been anything to write home about but it appears that I've decided it's something to write on my blog about so here goes.

We had Drew's 5th grade promotion which brought about more tears than I expected as I wrote HERE. Then there was the last day of school which was designated as 5th Grade Fun Day. I had signed up to help out with Kick Ball which you might imagine to be a walk in the park for most of us who grew up in PE classes and recesses across this great nation. The rules are set in stone and everyone knows how to play, right? It's a game as American as apple pie.

Listen. I know that the state of our union is really bad right now. I know that we are feeling divided and anxious about the direction this country is going to take. And I really don't mean to pile on, friends. But I'm hear to tell you that the lack of a basic understanding of Kick Ball rules among America's school children causes me some deep concern. It's a national tragedy, y'all.

Suffice it to say there has been some serious bending of the rules in Physical Education classes from sea to shining sea in the recent past. My Kick Ball Monitoring Colleagues and I were all generally the same age so we were pretty clear about the rules. We were quite alarmed when a number of students asked how many outs they were allowed. One poor child suggested that six outs would be a good number. At least 75% of the kids didn't know what a foul ball was. And the base running issues were enough to make me want to cry a river of tears.

Oh, dear, departed Forefathers. What has happened to your people?

There was even one instance where there were runners on 1st and 2nd and the kid at the plate kicked the ball. All was going well until the kid on 2nd decided not to run and the kid on 1st joined her friend on 2nd. They thought this was perfectly acceptable. They were simply going to share the base.

Not on my watch, Sister. What country do you think this is?

I will assure you that by the time the 3rd or 4th group had come through the Kick Ball station, my fellow volunteers and I had set out some fairly stern 1980s Kick Ball guidelines before that ball was rolled. Those 5th graders are just lucky that Brendan's Mom, Laney's Dad and Drew's Mom didn't tie bandanas around our heads and start yelling "Wolverines!". In the end, I think fun was had by all.

God Bless America.

On the first full day out of school Drew had a doctor's appointment during which he would have to get blood drawn so I promised him that we would go to breakfast wherever he wanted. He chose Bob Evans. Even though I was not initially thrilled with his choice, it turned out to be delightful. Besides Drew, I was the youngest person in that place by about 40 years, so I felt very energetic and full of spunk by the time we left. Incidentally, if you ever decide to give Bob Evans a go, Drew ordered the Cinnamon Supreme Hotcakes which might have been the best thing I've ever tasted in my life. I can't officially recommend them because I only took a couple of bites. Anymore than that and I might as well have downed a box of pure cane sugar.

The rest of the week was spent driving to and from baseball games, tournaments and practices. I attended a couple of high school graduation parties where I learned that the romper is the fashion statement of the summer for the majority of 17 and 18 year olds and it's pretty darn adorable. I can't tell you how many of those precious girls I had to elbow past to get to the Costco sheet cake.

This week we will work on getting the boys to help more around the house as the tasks which come with moving seem to never end. At this point, I'm simply looking toward having a kid refrain from looking at me as if I've just asked him to donate a kidney when I inquire as to whether he could bring the laundry basket upstairs.

Also, Kyle and I are obsessed with the OJ documentary on ESPN called Made in America so we will catch up on that. It's really fascinating even when you lived through it and you think you know all there is to know about it. I really can't stop thinking about it. This might be the reason that I was sure there was a dead body in the back of my car all weekend while we were away at Kyle's baseball tournament. Alas, it was just his cleats left in the car overnight.

On that note, I'm going to call Kyle down here to watch the 5th episode. We haven't gotten to the part where OJ actually gets convicted of something. And I'm going to tell you without hesitation that I will sleep better tonight once I see that at least a tiny bit of justice prevailed there.

I'll have a Summer Lovin' post coming later this week which I will write in addition to pursuing my dream to pen my first book, In Defense of 3 Outs: The Official Rules and Regulations of America's Greatest Playground Game

Have a great week, Friends!

The View from Behind the Tee Box

I have spent many days in the past few weeks driving a golf cart over rolling hills, trying desperately to keep my eye on a tiny ball shot through the air and holding my breath as it rolls toward a black hole on a perfectly manicured green.  I've had to bite my tongue so that I won't bring out my "baseball mom voice" to cheer too loudly when things go right.  I've tried to conjure up jedi mind tricks to stare hope and perseverance back into my son's thoughts when things go wrong.

As for my personal experience with the game, it was short lived.  I took lessons seventeen years ago and played a few holes with some girlfriends that long ago summer.  The next summer found all three of us pregnant and spending our summer shopping for strollers and cribs.  It was - to be sure - a devastating blow to the future of women's golf.  My experience was that I could hit five ridiculously awful shots and then one perfectly beautiful shot. It is true that in that one shot, anyone, on any course, suddenly believes that he or she is the next Tiger Woods.  Those perfect shots were very few and far between for me, so the time I spend on the golf course now includes no clubs, just carts and cameras.

From behind my lens, I have determined that golf is both infuriating and exhilarating,  In watching my son play, I feel like I am observing some fickle girl who makes him feel like he is the love of her life, only to change her mind minutes later, breaking his heart.  And then she comes back, flicking her hair and batting her eyelashes, making him feel like a hero again.

That two-bit tramp. ;-)

Still, as frustrating as this game is, it takes place in the most perfectly serene of settings. I have to be still and quiet and my being welcomes that.  I am surrounded by white puffy clouds, brilliant blue skies and trees of every sort and size.  Often I find myself pulling up next to a mama deer and her baby. They are rarely fazed by me.

My son, his teammates and his opponents are calm and measured. (Mostly calm and measured.  Admittedly, my boy's own baseball voice makes an appearance on occasion)  They help each other in reading putts and clarifying rules.  They are polite and dignified, talking quietly with each other and encouraging opponents with, "Good ball." or "That'll play.  Nice shot."

The golf season for me is a welcome change from rowdy baseball crowds and blazing sun.  It is soft breezes and singing birds.  It is whispered encouragement and gentlemanly handshakes.  And for a few hours this:

It is almost impossible to remember how tragic a place this world is when one is playing golf.

-Robert Lynd

God finds me in both the oddest and the most ordinary of places.  Reminding me of the gift of this day, the gift of this creation and the extraordinary gift of this boy.

"No other game combines the wonder of nature with the discipline of sport in such carefully planned ways.  A great golf course both frees and challenges a golfer's mind.

- Tom Watson

"I'm about five inches from being an outstanding golfer. That's the distance my left ear is from my right."

-Ben Crenshaw

"What other people may find in poetry or art museums, I find in the flight of a good drive."

~Arnold Palmer

"They call it golf because all the other four letter words were taken."

- Raymond Floyd

"Golf is the closest game to the game we call life.  You get bad breaks from good shots, you get good breaks from bad shots, but you have to play the ball where it lies." 

-Bobby Jones

"One of the most fascinating things about golf is how it reflects the cycle of life. No matter what you shoot, the next day you have to go back to the first tee and begin all over again and make yourself into something."

~Peter Jacobsen

A PS:  At Kyle's Kamp we are raising funds for pediatric cancer patients and families at our 3rd Annual Gavin Rupp Open Golf Tournament.  On October 5th at Chantilly National Golf Club we will again honor the memory of Gavin who battled brain cancer until he left this world on July 30, 2013 at the age of 13.  At the past two tournaments, we have surely seen how God and Gavin have worked together to meet us out on that brilliant green grass.  We've noticed Gavin's presence in the shimmer of the sun on the ponds, the vast blue skies and the extraordinary sunsets.  We are certain that Gavin is there with us.  Won't you join us as well?  Sign up HERE.

Sugar and Spice and Little Pink Cleats

If you've read this blog long enough you know that I am the lone, relatively small female in a house of full of four men. (one small, one medium, one large and one extra-large, but who's counting?) And though I joke about the smell, the mud and the incessant ESPN, I believe I was made to spend my days among snips and snails and puppy dog tails. Despite all my kidding about my dreams of sharing shopping and salon trips with "Fake Daughter", I adore my boys and have never once felt any deep sense of loss or absence in not having another girl in my home.

And yet.

As a girl who loves make-up and bubble baths and shoes and a good Kate Winslet movie, there are those times when I need a little sugar and spice and everything nice in my life.

Saturday, after a long, tedious week of filling in practice and game schedules on my calendar, washing stains out of white pants and buying cleats, athletic supporters and 327 gallons of milk, I found myself on the way to the third of seven baseball games that were on the schedule for the weekend. It was a beautiful day for baseball and I really was excited to sit down in  my chair in the sun and watch my boys play. 

I also remembered that my little friend, Sabrina and her mom, my friend, Christine, lived quite close to the park. Sabrina is a little girl who was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 16 months. Sabrina has kicked a little cancer booty of late. At the age of four, she is just about 18 months cancer free and she will be one of the Patient Ambassadors for my son's baseball team when we play in the Kyle's Kamp Memorial Day tournament to benefit pediatric cancer research at Children's National Medical Center. 

Sabrina came out to our baseball game on Saturday to meet the boys and coaches of the 14U Stars baseball team before the tournament next month. Before she arrived, our coach told the guys to be ready to greet her and make her feel welcome. There might have been a warning along the lines of try not to act like chuckleheads, guys.

When Sabrina arrived,  donning her Giants Little League jersey and hat, my son, Kyle, put his hand through the chain-link fence of the dugout and she grabbed onto his finger and held tight for awhile. So enchanted was my 14 year old, that I'm pretty sure he almost stuck her in his bat bag and took her home. Kyle's teammate, Drew, grinned a million dollar smile at Sabrina as she told him she would have her first tball game later that day. Our catcher, Andrew, decked out in all of his gear, squatted down to meet Sabrina face to face and asked her if she'd like him to draw some black lines under her eyes to match the rest of the team. (She politely declined, "No, thank you.  I don't need that.")

Sabrina met all of the parents and coaches as well. She taught us Spanish words and discussed ballet and baseball. She skipped and smiled and sang a few Frozen songs for "Miss Jenn's friends".

Girlfriend apparently had some things to say to "Miss Jenn's Friends".

A LOT of things to say

JUST SO MANY things to say:

After the boys finished their game, a number of them decided that it was the perfect time to grab a Slurpee and head over to watch their favorite littlest Giant play her first t-ball game.

Let me tell you something. There is nothing that will make your heart bust open wider than watching a group of rough and tumble teenaged boys struck still and captivated by a little girl with bouncy curls and a baseball glove.

And you know what else busts open a heart? It's when I realize that there is never a mistake in who God brings into our orbit. Sometimes He brings in people to help fill big, gaping holes. Sometimes we just have a little bitty hole that needs to be filled. I'm grateful that I don't have any big, gaping holes. The Lord has given me everything I need in this family of men. I am blessed beyond measure. But sometimes - not too often, but sometimes - the boyness overwhelms and there's a little gap that just needs to be filled up with a little girlness.

A little bit of sugar and spice and everything nice. And some pink cleats just to keep it interesting. 

Te amo mucho, Sabrina. Mi corazon esta lleno.

Writing about Whatever: Basketball, Mamas and Taking Joy

Hey, y'all.

Baseball got cancelled.  Again.  It's raining.  And I have time to write.  Except I don't have anything profound to write about.   So I'm treating it like I treated running yesterday.

See, yesterday, it wasn't raining for a minute or two and it wasn't cold.  So I tied up my shoes and I went for a run outside.  Like in the world - outside.  Where people might have seen me.  It wasn't pretty. It wasn't fast.  I couldn't quite get my rhythm down.   It might have been a little Phoebe-ish:

Also, near the end there was lots of sniffing and sneezing, dripping and itching because DEAR SWEET MOSES, the pollen.

But this is the thing.  Sometimes you just have to do it.  You don't have to wait until you feel like it.  Until your favorite running shorts are clean.  Or you have new shoes. You don't have to wait until you're good at it.  You just have to do it.  And I felt so much better after I did it.

So, that's what I'm thinking about with the writing. This isn't going to be shiny or new or good.  But I have to write . . . whatever. 

So here's some whatever which came out of me watching basketball on tv which I really have no choice about in this house.   

Monday night we watched the NCAA Championship game.  I had been mildly irritated with the complete March Madness takeover of my home.  I had placed basketball firmly on the back burner after my 'Horns lost in the 1st round, but my people didn't exactly move on with me.  All the way through Spring Break, they were still way into it. 

The little one?  COULD.NOT.STOP.TALKING.ABOUT.IT.  College basketball.  Professional basketball.  He's obsessed.   As the lovely and talented Mrs. C. would say, "He's a complete Banana Sandwich about it." 

So it was that I begrudgingly sat down with the boys to watch the championship Monday night.  Everybody in my house picked Duke and after saying 7,000 times that I DID NOT CARE, I picked Wisconsin.  First, I have a friend who lives there.  Second, one of the superhero nurses I've met who cares for kids with cancer is a fan.  Third, a guy named Frank the Tank was apparently on the team.  So for those reasons I picked Wisconsin.  Yawn.  WHAT.EV.ER.

Then.  This guy happened.

image; andrewjkahn.com

The kid was ON FIRE, y'all.  He was getting after it like nobody's business.  He was shooting and drawing fouls and hollering and diving on to the court for loose balls.  He was all kinds of fired up and just giving it every last thing he had.  I mean it.  It was like that kid WAS ALL JACKED UP ON MOUNTAIN DEW, CHIP.

And suddenly, I started paying attention and sitting up straight on the couch and watching close. He got his team back in it.  When that cutie pie Tyus, with the beautiful long eyelashes, hit a 3 from almost half court, I had totally jumped out of the tank for Frank and into the tank for Duke. 

And I kept picturing those boys' mamas.  And my mama heart was turning flips.  It's like when I was at Drew's League Championship game, I tried to keep calm and . . .

(Time out:  Why, yes, Reader.  I did just compare the 4th/5th Grade League Championship to the NCAA Championship.  I sure did.  Who's the Banana Sandwich now?)

Anyway, I always start out a big game like that thinking I will be calm and dignified.  My face will be the epitome of "I am classy and restrained.  I am very much enjoying watching my son and his teammates participate in this pleasant recreational activity."   Later I will clap some and maybe slightly elevate my voice with  a "Nice take, son." or some other positive statement.  Sometimes that happens. 

And sometimes.  SUPERFREAK.

I wonder about Grayson Allen's mom.  Did she start by clapping calmly and maybe standing when the Duke boys got on a roll?  Smiling appreciatively at the people as they congratulated her?  That would be classy.  I would be impressed with that.

But, you know what I hope.  I hope for that moment that she lost her ever lovin' mind.  I hope she jumped up and shouted for joy and raised her hands in the air and hugged people. I hope she yelled "Atta' boy, buddy!" at the top of her lungs and I hope her heart raced and her face flushed and her soul burst full of pride and love for her boy and his team.  Because her boy and his team played with some fierce heart and some fierce focus and some fierce love. 

I've read some articles since Monday that criticize Allen.  They call him a show boater and a bully.  I'm certainly not a fan of "in your face" cockiness and bad sportsmanship and it all might be true, but I hope it's just some internet hating.  And I hope his mama didn't read any of it.  Ain't nobody got time for that.

Because in that moment, on that stage, I loved watching that kid.  I stopped being so pouty about sports being on my darn tv all the flippin' time.  I was the last woman standing to watch the celebration and the interviews after my house full of men went to bed.  I loved those big boys crying and hugging.  I loved the energy and the relief and the JOY. 

And I bet their mamas did, too.  I hope they just grabbed hold of that joy and held on tight.  Because that's what sports have the ability to do.  Sports can give us some joy.  Loud, crazy, delirious joy.  Full, perfect, pure joy. 

And you know what?  God knows, everybody got time for that.

Seeing Him through Seeing Them

Hi, Friends,

I just want you to know that I am determined not to ramble on in this post about the amount of things I had planned to have crossed off the list before this week arrived and the subsequent epic failure that has occurred in that regard.  No sir, not gonna do it.

I have only been asked about 35 times in the last few days if I am ready for Christmas.  You know what my answer is from this moment forward?  I'm just gonna give it one of these:

Because, y'all, Tami Taylor and I are nothing if we are not full of crap full of positivity and a can-do attitude.

I just got home from spending an hour at an indoor basketball facility because youth sports these days ain't got time for taking a day off.  And really, nothing prepares one's heart for the coming of the Messiah like draining a 3 pointer from mid court.

Still, I am honestly glad to have sat there watching my boy run and shoot and pass, sweat dripping from his hair, lungs burning as he leaned over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.  At first I was frustrated to have to spend the half hour driving in the cold rain to get there and then another hour in that plastic chair, knowing all the while that THERE IS STUFF TO DO, people!

But God brought me there.  He wanted me to sit my rear end down in that plastic chair.  He wanted me to shudder at the squeak of the shoes and for my head to vibrate every time the ball bounced on the floor.  He wanted to remind me that even though in the last few weeks, I have been focused on the fact that life can literally drain away and there is nothing I can do about it, there is absolutely something I can do about the life that is happening right in front of my eyes.  He wanted to remind me that where there is sadness and pain, and where there is frantic busyness, there is also wonder and hope and a future of light if I will look for it. As I question Him and beg His comfort and run around frantically trying to make good things happen where there are so many bad things, He is graciously, generously showing me the story of my life and telling me to SIT DOWN, SISTER.  SIT DOWN and SEE IT.

I do think my friends who have lost their children appreciate my attention to the cause of childhood cancer because it is important.  And I won't stop praying for them and volunteering for this cause, because I know God has called me here.  But I would guess these same friends would also suggest that I don't let the children and the husband and the life God has plopped right in front of me slip away unnoticed.  Because there is no doubt that these guys are my first and most important calling.  I would guess my friends would say, "Pay attention.  Be present.  Be grateful. Look at your boy. SEE him."

In the same way, I think all my relatives that will be with us this week appreciate the effort to make Christmas special because it's important.  And I want the table to be beautiful and the traditions to go off without a hitch and the gifts to be perfect.  But I would guess that these family members hope that I don't let these moments of us all together at once slip away unnoticed as I run around like a maniac.  I would guess my children would say,  "Pay attention.  Be present.  Be grateful.  Look at me.  SEE me."

And I know God asks this of me, too.  I don't think He wants me to look away from pain.  I think He wants me to be aware.  I don't think He wants me to let go of all the magic that we try to create in our home for Christmas.  I think He wants me to make it feel special.  I think He wants me to open my heart to the suffering of His people and at the same time to never, ever forget the grace He puts out into the world every single minute of every single day.  He wants me to see that He did that by paying attention, being present, by looking at us, by SEEING us.  And realizing that we needed Him to come to save us.

So what He did was He came in the most unexpected way.  A tiny baby, born in stable destroyed all the pain and all the darkness on that night.  I think God sent Him that way to show the world that His plan is not what we may think it is.  The way we want things to go might not be the way they are going to go.  That suffering might last for awhile, but that joy WILL come again.  This was not the way the people thought the King of Kings was supposed to arrive.  God was saying, "Pay attention.  Be present.  SEE Me. Because I have not stopped seeing you."

A SONG I've been listening to this week by Mac Powell says it like this:

I see what I made in your mother's womb. 

I see the day I fell in love with you. 

I see the your tomorrows, nothing left to chance.  I see my Father's fingerprints. 

I see your story, I see My name. Written on every beautiful page. 

You see the struggle, you see the pain.  I see the reason I came.

I came for your story.  I came for your wounds. 

To show you what love sees, when I see you.

I hope you can all take some moments this week, whether you are in the midst of grief and darkness or just caught up in the stress of trying to make everything perfect to see that God has seen our stories all along and that He is not looking away.  I'm going to try really hard to see my family without distraction.  To pay attention.  To be present.  To see them as He sees them.  I think He is writing a beautiful story and I don't want to miss it.

Merry Christmas, Friends.

{this moment}: When Sports Gave Us Better: All the Feels, Mr. Jeter.

I'm going to jump in on the Derek Jeter love today.  I know the internet is full this morning of posts on his final victorious game at home last night.  There will be articles written by knowledgeable, legitimate sportswriters about him today, tomorrow and for years to come  They will detail his skill as a shortstop and as a hitter and a runner.  I don't know all that much about that part of Derek Jeter.  And though I know they are formidable, I can't rattle off his batting stats, how many rings he has or how many MVP awards he has.

I'm just a mom.

I'm just a mom of boys who play baseball and a wife of one who coaches.  I'm a member of a house which has the tv tuned to ESPN or MLB network or NESN all the flippin' time.  And I write a blog called The View from Behind Home Plate so, perhaps by marriage or by motherhood or simply by osmosis, baseball has become my thing.  I've honestly not had much of a choice and I've come to appreciate the way sports can help my husband and me teach our kids about things like tenacity and teamwork, struggle and perseverance, failure and triumph.  And, due to people like Derek Jeter, about character and humility.  There has not been one time - not once - where I wanted to switch the channel when Derek Jeter was on the sports report.

In my family our loyalties run the gamut when it comes to Major League Baseball.  Husband and the two oldest are diehard Red Sox fans.  Little man loves the Dodgers lately.   I play the field, so to speak.  I'm a Texas Ranger fan by birth.  I'm a Boston Red Sox fan by marriage (and by my never-ending crush on Matt Damon and his accent in Good Will Hunting)  This year I made a bold move and decided that I have officially, of my own accord, chosen my team:  the Washington Nationals.  No one in this family has ever - will ever - cheer for the Yankees.

And yet, my {this moment} this week?  The moment I want to pause, savor and remember?  It was that moment when Derek Jeter, a guy who plays for the Yankees (the YANKEES!!) busted a walk-off basehit in the bottom of the ninth to bring the runner home and win his very last home game for his team.

I don't have to tell you that the moments in the sports world that are worth pausing, savoring and remembering have been few and far between in the last few weeks.  Sports is chock full of stuff we want to forget.   We watch over-hyped, over-paid, immature, selfish and even criminal athletes, who are put on pedestals, come crashing down as tales of their brokenness are shouted from commentators and news reporters.

But I can't help it.  I love sports.  I believe in sports.  I love athletes and competition and teamwork.  And I know sports has given and can give us better moments.  Last night, baseball gave us better.  It gave us Derek Jeter.

We watched the replay of that moment we've seen a thousand times this week. That play where Jeter goes diving into the stands and comes out all bloody and bruised (and kinda dreamy) with the ball in his glove.

We watched him take his position for one of the last times out on his field all the while breathing deep breaths in and out,  We just knew that man was trying so hard not to cry. So, we cried for him.

And then {this moment}:  When he came up to bat with a tie game and the winning run on base in the bottom of the ninth, At that moment there was a 45 year old woman in her pjs ironing a stack of wrinkled boy clothes.  She thought that it would be too good to be true.  You could not possibly write a script this good.  When he had that basehit RBI to win his last game that woman dropped the iron and jumped up and down and yelled, "Oh my gosh!!  He did it!  Basehit, Jeter!  Safe, safe, safe!!!"

Kyle ran sleepy eyed into my room and we both ran down the stairs to join Joe and Steve watching in the family room.  My husband, my boys and I all had the same expression while watching the replay over and over as Jeter jumped into his teammate's arms.  We stared up at the tv, each of us with our mouths half wide open, the corners just barely curling into four disbelieving smiles.

I think of those faces as I write this now and it reminds me of two things I saw some where on the internet last night.  One was someone saying that the problem with today's world with all of our advancements and intelligence and technology was that we have lost a sense of wonder.  And another was someone tweeting about this final game saying, "All the feels, Jeter"

And this is why I love sports and moments like this.   It was true that in that moment we had all the feels:  sadness, joy, gratitude, relief, nostalgia.  All of them.  And one more that shone on the faces of my Red Sox loving baseball boys.

Wonder.

I will not reach hastily for the remote today, Mr. Jeter.  I'll let all the wonder of your career, your character and your skill stay on the tv and I'll even sit down and watch with them.

All the feels, #2.  All of them.  From a baseball loving mom in the suburbs to you, sir:  Many, many thanks.