I had it all planned out. I was going to write a blog to all the graduates, a few words of advice to the seniors of 2010. AFter filling in at the high school in the fall of 2008, and after finishing 3 seasons with this group of football players, I felt like I knew a lot of the guys and girls who walked across the graduation stage. And i have to say, I like ALOT of the those students and will miss seeing a lot of those faces. So, a blog was in order. My plan was to dish out some common sense wisdom, you know, "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is," or "There's no such thing as free." Things like that. Also, little hints that I've picked up, mostly from my own mistakes. For example, don't buy the cheap shoelaces; they cost a dollar for a reason. And for the college bound: Just because you can stay out all night, doesn't mean you should. Same goes for fast food. Just because they have a dollar menu, doesn't mean it's good for you.
I had it all planned out. And then, we saw Charlie. He was eating dinner with his family and came over to tell us he was getting ready to ship out. Suddenly all that advice seemed pretty silly. His shipping out was no surprise; we'd known for a while that he was joining the Marines, but that was when he graduated. That was back in the fall when he stumbled into the classes I subbed, finishing off a snack before the bell rang, when he begged me to let him play trashcan basketball after the test with old scraps of paper. That was back when he was running for touchdowns on Friday nights. That was when he was a kid. Yep, all those words about too many Big Macs and late night fraternity parties seemed pretty silly directed to a boy who might be headed off to a war in the desert.
He's not the only one. Another one of our players has already shipped out. I don't know where he is and I don't know what six weeks of boot camp is like. What I do know is they didn't HAVE to join. They signed up to do something that most people wouldn't, couldn't do. They traded backpacks and textbooks for machine guns and ready to eat meals. They gave up dorm rooms and video games for combat boots and heavy artillery.
They spent twelve years as America's future and with the switch of a tassel, they became America's finest. It's hard to believe that the boys whose faces I can still see, sitting in the bleachers listening to morning announcements, eating lunch with their friends in the Panther cafe, and racing down the football field, are now the men who protect our country and defend the freedoms that most of us take for granted. That the boys who just months ago donned cap and gown now command respect and applause as they pass through airports in their dress blues. It's humbling to know that men and women fight every day so that we can do the things we love; it's even more humbling when that soldier is a young man you coached or taught.
If I could slow time down, I would, let them and us have one more season, one more summer of innocence, youth, and ignorant bliss. But I can't, for them, me, or my own boys. So all I can do is pray for them, be proud of them, and offer one dose of advice as they "ship out": take care of yourselves!
God Bless Charlie, James, and ALL of our soldiers!!!
Monday, June 28, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
children and fools
One of my favorite bible verses has always been, "Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it." I grew up in Sunday School, taught Sunday School, and now send my children there every week. I believe in that verse and i try to follow that verse. But another proverb that i stumbled upon recently is gaining more weight around my house the older my children get: "children and fools speak the truth."
Tucker is a talker. I mean a drown out the radio, 20 questions, analyzing movies as a toddler kind of talker. Forget the typical first born characteristics--quiet, reserved, organized--he headed straight to the 3rd child qualities, namely "most likely to become a game show host." So to say he tells it like it is is an understatement. Ever since he started watching the Braves, he's been a Brian McCann fan, so much so that he's begging for catcher's gear for Christmas already. Well, last summer, out-of-nowhere, he told me that i had "Brian McCann legs." Hmmm. . . What can you say to that? If he weren't my child i could have come up with plenty of four letter expletives and maybe a face slap. But i think he kind of meant it as a compliment, so I just smiled and said, "Thanks, buddy"
Seething and self-conscious, I headed to the full-length mirror to check it out. No offense, you rich, young Major League catcher, but the last thing a 35 year old pregnant woman wants to hear is that she has the legs of a man who squats for a living. Unfortunately, my job requires me to do squats and lunges in a room surrounded by mirrors, so that Brian McCann "compliment" keeps ringing in my ears. Thanks, Tucker!
Mothers Day rolled around this year and Daddy and the boys decided to buy me a gift certificate to have my hair done. Again, Tucker wasted no time in letting me know that i wasn't quite up to par with how he thought i should look. I envisioned a nice cut, similar to what i usually get, and maybe some highlights resembling my natural color. He had other plans: "Mom, you need to get blonde hair AND you need to start wearing glasses. YOu'd look alot better!" Wow! tell me how you really feel, son.
His honesty and candid remarks aren't just limited to how I look. One night Tucker had obviously met someone from a divorced family and had lots of questions. I tried to explain it as best I could, how kids might live with one parent most of the time, and visit the other parent on weekends. It didn't take him long to decide who he would choose if that were to happen to him: "I'd definitely live with Dad cause he gets tickets to the PeachBowl and Georgia games and mom doesn't." Wow, all those nights rocking a sick baby, nursing ear aches, and changing wet diapers and i'm sold out for sideline passes to an organized brawl in the big city.
One of my favorite times that he "tells it like it is" is when he makes fun of how I run. Running is important to me, and it's something i like to think i do pretty well. To him, though, imitating me as i head up the hill to our house is a riot. "I'm Mom," he shouts, as he tilts his head to the side and dons an intense glare on his face. He's even better when he laughs at me after sneaking a peek at me teaching my Silver Sneakers class. "One, two, one, two," he screams, as he attempts a rather lazy grapevine. hey, what happens with me and my senior citizens behind closed doors is my business!! He thinks i'm a hilarious goofball; and tells me!
He's only nine. I'm not sure how much more of his truth i can stand. But maybe i'm looking at this all wrong. Though he acts like a third child quite a bit, artsy and comedic at the same time, he IS a first born child and they are also known to be pleasers, always trying to make others happy. This is the child who won the Citizenship Award in his class. Maybe what he meant by Brian McCann legs was that I have toned, muscular legs. Isn't that what i work out for? And maybe I WOULD look better with a new hair color. I had lots of compliments when i had my blonde highlights. And seriously, what boy doesn't think his Daddy is the coolest? Maybe i'm the one with the problem, not Tucker. I'm assuming the worst, that all his comments are just a pre-teen waiting to let loose on his parents; when really all he's doing is trying to make us happy.
The more I think about it, the more I like that verse about children speaking the truth. Tell me more, Tucker. The truth sounds pretty good coming from a 9 year old:)
Tucker is a talker. I mean a drown out the radio, 20 questions, analyzing movies as a toddler kind of talker. Forget the typical first born characteristics--quiet, reserved, organized--he headed straight to the 3rd child qualities, namely "most likely to become a game show host." So to say he tells it like it is is an understatement. Ever since he started watching the Braves, he's been a Brian McCann fan, so much so that he's begging for catcher's gear for Christmas already. Well, last summer, out-of-nowhere, he told me that i had "Brian McCann legs." Hmmm. . . What can you say to that? If he weren't my child i could have come up with plenty of four letter expletives and maybe a face slap. But i think he kind of meant it as a compliment, so I just smiled and said, "Thanks, buddy"
Seething and self-conscious, I headed to the full-length mirror to check it out. No offense, you rich, young Major League catcher, but the last thing a 35 year old pregnant woman wants to hear is that she has the legs of a man who squats for a living. Unfortunately, my job requires me to do squats and lunges in a room surrounded by mirrors, so that Brian McCann "compliment" keeps ringing in my ears. Thanks, Tucker!
Mothers Day rolled around this year and Daddy and the boys decided to buy me a gift certificate to have my hair done. Again, Tucker wasted no time in letting me know that i wasn't quite up to par with how he thought i should look. I envisioned a nice cut, similar to what i usually get, and maybe some highlights resembling my natural color. He had other plans: "Mom, you need to get blonde hair AND you need to start wearing glasses. YOu'd look alot better!" Wow! tell me how you really feel, son.
His honesty and candid remarks aren't just limited to how I look. One night Tucker had obviously met someone from a divorced family and had lots of questions. I tried to explain it as best I could, how kids might live with one parent most of the time, and visit the other parent on weekends. It didn't take him long to decide who he would choose if that were to happen to him: "I'd definitely live with Dad cause he gets tickets to the PeachBowl and Georgia games and mom doesn't." Wow, all those nights rocking a sick baby, nursing ear aches, and changing wet diapers and i'm sold out for sideline passes to an organized brawl in the big city.
One of my favorite times that he "tells it like it is" is when he makes fun of how I run. Running is important to me, and it's something i like to think i do pretty well. To him, though, imitating me as i head up the hill to our house is a riot. "I'm Mom," he shouts, as he tilts his head to the side and dons an intense glare on his face. He's even better when he laughs at me after sneaking a peek at me teaching my Silver Sneakers class. "One, two, one, two," he screams, as he attempts a rather lazy grapevine. hey, what happens with me and my senior citizens behind closed doors is my business!! He thinks i'm a hilarious goofball; and tells me!
He's only nine. I'm not sure how much more of his truth i can stand. But maybe i'm looking at this all wrong. Though he acts like a third child quite a bit, artsy and comedic at the same time, he IS a first born child and they are also known to be pleasers, always trying to make others happy. This is the child who won the Citizenship Award in his class. Maybe what he meant by Brian McCann legs was that I have toned, muscular legs. Isn't that what i work out for? And maybe I WOULD look better with a new hair color. I had lots of compliments when i had my blonde highlights. And seriously, what boy doesn't think his Daddy is the coolest? Maybe i'm the one with the problem, not Tucker. I'm assuming the worst, that all his comments are just a pre-teen waiting to let loose on his parents; when really all he's doing is trying to make us happy.
The more I think about it, the more I like that verse about children speaking the truth. Tell me more, Tucker. The truth sounds pretty good coming from a 9 year old:)
Friday, June 4, 2010
Prayer for the Panthers
Strolled/jogged around the track at Billy's school this morning, and well, this is what came to me after 7 miles:)
Dear God,
You've been with us from the very beginning: the interview in a town we'd never heard of, the phone call from Mr.Lancaster, the huge ABF moving truck with our lives loaded in it(that it seemed like we'd just unpacked), the heartbreak and tears(mine) over leaving our current home and friends. You were there when our house sold in 5 days and we slipped seamlessly from Mississippi residents to Georgia homeowners with a little cash in our pockets. You were there when the older man at the new church looked at Billy and said, "What made you take that job?" You were there for it all and I guess that's what made it OK to pack up and move again and start over AGAIN in a place where we knew NO ONE! The Bible says "where You lead, I will follow." Well, we're here.
Well, God, I have a request. The Bible also says, "Ask and it shall be given to you." It's been three seasons and there's no other way to do this but to come right out with it. Lord, I'm praying today for a winning season for the Panthers. Be with the players as they hit the weight room early mornings on their summer break. Assure them that the work they trade for sleep will pay off this fall. Be with them as they endure the wind sprints and conditioning that will prepare them for hot nights in full pads against boys who may be bigger or faster than they are. Bless the receivers with quick feet as they glide down the emerald green grass. Give them long arms and tight grips as they pull in passes from their quarterback. Guide that very quarterback as he surveys the field, sizes up the defense, and delivers a game winning pass. Give the linemen tough feet as they dig their toes into the ground, pushing, shoving, and protecting. Keep them strong even though theirs are the names that rarely get called. Be with the safety who gets beat on a pass route, and give him the confidence boost to go back on the next play and intercept. Calm the kicker who sometimes carries the game on his shoulders. Help him boot that pigskin straight through the goalposts, and protect him as he is carried off the field on the shoulders of his teammates. Be with the coaches whose heavy feet pace the sidelines they mow themselves, who carry a heavier burden than most people can understand. Encourage the boys who stuck with it, even when it was hard, when others gave up on them, and are finally seeing some light in the distance.
You see, God, we've had it rough here the last several years, or so i've been told. The teams who came before us have suffered the losses, the games that "build character." But now, Lord, it's time to win. Our boys know what it's like to work hard and improve. To continue when others quit. To lose in the last few minutes, to lose in the first few minutes. They know what it's like to read the paper and hear the praise heaped on surrounding teams. Lord, I just think it's time to see the right people reap what they sow. Let the boys who buy into a work ethic, follow when asked to follow, and lead when expected to lead, experience the thrill of victory. Let them hear the roar of a crowd who plan their weekend around 7:30 kickoffs. Let them read about themselves in the paper, with words like "upset," and "playoff."
Thank you Lord for football as we know it: summer workouts, cool fall nights in the bleachers, cheerleaders chanting, and marching bands marching. Thank you for pep rallies, homecoming, tailgating, and signing day. And Lord, if we could add play off game to that list, I'd consider this an answered prayer.
In Jesus name,
Jennifer
P.S. -- Lord, i'm pretty sure i can get you a sideline pass to that play off game. Just sayin'.
Dear God,
You've been with us from the very beginning: the interview in a town we'd never heard of, the phone call from Mr.Lancaster, the huge ABF moving truck with our lives loaded in it(that it seemed like we'd just unpacked), the heartbreak and tears(mine) over leaving our current home and friends. You were there when our house sold in 5 days and we slipped seamlessly from Mississippi residents to Georgia homeowners with a little cash in our pockets. You were there when the older man at the new church looked at Billy and said, "What made you take that job?" You were there for it all and I guess that's what made it OK to pack up and move again and start over AGAIN in a place where we knew NO ONE! The Bible says "where You lead, I will follow." Well, we're here.
Well, God, I have a request. The Bible also says, "Ask and it shall be given to you." It's been three seasons and there's no other way to do this but to come right out with it. Lord, I'm praying today for a winning season for the Panthers. Be with the players as they hit the weight room early mornings on their summer break. Assure them that the work they trade for sleep will pay off this fall. Be with them as they endure the wind sprints and conditioning that will prepare them for hot nights in full pads against boys who may be bigger or faster than they are. Bless the receivers with quick feet as they glide down the emerald green grass. Give them long arms and tight grips as they pull in passes from their quarterback. Guide that very quarterback as he surveys the field, sizes up the defense, and delivers a game winning pass. Give the linemen tough feet as they dig their toes into the ground, pushing, shoving, and protecting. Keep them strong even though theirs are the names that rarely get called. Be with the safety who gets beat on a pass route, and give him the confidence boost to go back on the next play and intercept. Calm the kicker who sometimes carries the game on his shoulders. Help him boot that pigskin straight through the goalposts, and protect him as he is carried off the field on the shoulders of his teammates. Be with the coaches whose heavy feet pace the sidelines they mow themselves, who carry a heavier burden than most people can understand. Encourage the boys who stuck with it, even when it was hard, when others gave up on them, and are finally seeing some light in the distance.
You see, God, we've had it rough here the last several years, or so i've been told. The teams who came before us have suffered the losses, the games that "build character." But now, Lord, it's time to win. Our boys know what it's like to work hard and improve. To continue when others quit. To lose in the last few minutes, to lose in the first few minutes. They know what it's like to read the paper and hear the praise heaped on surrounding teams. Lord, I just think it's time to see the right people reap what they sow. Let the boys who buy into a work ethic, follow when asked to follow, and lead when expected to lead, experience the thrill of victory. Let them hear the roar of a crowd who plan their weekend around 7:30 kickoffs. Let them read about themselves in the paper, with words like "upset," and "playoff."
Thank you Lord for football as we know it: summer workouts, cool fall nights in the bleachers, cheerleaders chanting, and marching bands marching. Thank you for pep rallies, homecoming, tailgating, and signing day. And Lord, if we could add play off game to that list, I'd consider this an answered prayer.
In Jesus name,
Jennifer
P.S. -- Lord, i'm pretty sure i can get you a sideline pass to that play off game. Just sayin'.
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