"Can she pleeeease stop writing about Panther football?" I know some of you are saying that right now, but y'all i just can't help it. It's getting to be that time of year, High 5 Sports is on, the Falcons are at training camp, the practice fields are full every afternoon, and Jackson County football's cup is overflowing! So y'all bear with me one more post; it's football season and there's a lot to be excited about.
My faithful blog followers already know that a couple of months ago I started a little prayer for the Panthers, praying for their summer sessions and for a winning season. I talked about how God had brought us here, kept us here, and is working His will into everything that happens here. I know many of you are also praying for our boys and our coaches and community, and y'all I think it's working.
I also shared the news about a month ago that money and scholarships had been provided to our program so that our entire team could go to FCA camp and experience an environment where Christianity and Football go together. In case you haven't heard, several of our players gave their lives to Christ at that camp, and if you ask the coaches, most will tell you that they came back as a different team. No doubt a stronger, smarter, wiser team than they left. That was just the beginning.
Not long after they returned from FCA camp, the coaching staff held a football camp for little boys. Pre-registration forms had the coaches expecting approximately 50-60kids. Pretty good number, we thought. Night one saw over 100 future Panthers show up to sweat it out on the practice field just like the big boys do. The next three nights the coaches worked their magic and put on a camp that set a precedent for all other camps that follow.
It doesn't end there. The first official week of practice came and went and saw close to 90, yes 90, players covering the practice field. The same school that fielded 40 boys the first year we showed up now has to order more equipment and jerseys to suit everyone up. Players from other counties have moved in and joined the team, kids who have been students at JCCHS for the last couple of years are now first-time Panthers on the gridiron, and the faithful few who have worn the Panther jersey since they were freshmen are now our senior leaders. Good things are happening.
Today was picture day and senior picnic at Hurrican Shoals, a Panther tradition as long as we've been here. Ninety-one players lined up for the team picture this morning, and over 200 players, parents, coaches, and family members celebrated the beginning of the season tonight at the park with a covered dish cook-out. These weren't parents dropping their kids off only to pick them up later. These were parents who brought casseroles, chips, and lawn chairs and did the whole meet and greet thing, biding the time til they can share the bleachers on Friday nights. Exciting things are happening.
It's kind of like a puzzle, I guess. You ask for one big thing in the beginning, say a winning season. And little by little, things start happening, one piece here, one piece there, until finally they all fit together and in the end you realize you got what you asked for. Sometimes it takes a little time, a lot of patience, and of course, a lot of work. At least that's the way I hope it works. Either way, it's pretty cool to watch how God keeps dropping those pieces down for us. I guess it's up to us, though, to put them together and make the final product happen.
So Y'all keep on praying and watching for the pieces to fall!
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Monday, August 2, 2010
Help! I need a play pen, and No! I don't mean an activity yard!
I'm beginning to see why play pens are on almost every baby registry from Target to Babies R Us. I'm also beginning to wonder why I gave mine away. I'm thinking of all the things i'd be willing to trade to get that bad boy back and give myself a little bit of peace and a lot less clean up time. If you've been to a baby shower lately, a deluxe model play yard almost always tops the list. But nooooo, I had to be one of those moms who wasn't going to limit her babies. Uh uh. What kind of mom would i have been if I had corralled all of their curiosity and inquisitive nature? I couldn't force them to play with ACTUAL toys that were made for them instead of the contents of my wallet. Nope, cruel and unusual punishment. Something back then told me play yards made for bad moms, so i gave away that little piece of heaven to the first available taker, promising not to think badly of the one who so desperately took it off my hands.
OK, that was nine years and three babies ago, and after cleaning up an entire loaf of bread from the carpet (again)and fishing an unused roll of toilet paper from the boys' potty, I'm questioning my sanity and counting the dollar bills in my wallet, searching the house for the best way to rearrange what we now have to make it fit an oh-so-marvelous square of plastic and netting. I mean, I should look at the positives, right? Think how much concentration time Tate would have to actually put all those shapes into the correct openings on the little canister if he weren't free to wander the house. He would be able to link all those plastic beads together to make a . . um . . . umm . . . to make something creative. I could actually leave the pennies on the floor and not have to lean over to pick them up after a long day of Step classes and vacuuming (oh who am I kidding, i just suck those copper coins up the Dyson, anyway). But the bathroom door wouldn't have to stay shut, and i wouldn't have to hide the toilet paper in the basement. The bottom two pantry shelves would actually have FOOD on them. I wouldn't worry about the resale value of our house if I added a top lock to EVERY door in here.
But it's not just for my sanity and a decrease in housework that a play pen, er yard, would be a great asset. There are safety issues to consider. Tate can now reach the door handles and since he only has to pull down to open the door, he's been beating me to the mailbox every afternoon. Cords dangle from every end table, and the big boys aren't always meticulous in picking up their Legos and Magnetix pieces, definite choking hazards. His little fingers can also reach the top of the kitchen counters, so that loaf of bread, hot pan handle, and cell phone charger dangling just centimeters from his reach really don't stand a chance. Kind of like me in this argument.
I'm pretty much the only one on Tate's side here, considering that Daddy's cell phone went missing about three months ago and Tate was the last person seen with it. But as much as I can envision a CLEAN house, with no pots and pans to stumble over, no shampoo bottles in the playroom, and no late night remote control searches before Pawn Stars (can you imagine if it were SEC season yet?), I just can't let myself do it. As crazy as it sounds, (and really haven't i proven myself just that already) I enjoy finding destruction and room remodels as I round the corners to areas i haven't been in lately. Plus, I would never have gotten the awesome photograph of him surrounded by toilet paper on the bathroom floor if he had been "penned in." I would never receive special gifts like toothpaste, alarm clocks, and DVD's on running a 50 defense if he were spending the afternoon in a box.
I'm sure there will come a time when penning in one of my children will be more tempting than it is today, when my main goal in life will be to protect them from the grown up world: first date, driver's license, first curfew violation,(gulp) college. So even though my body is forever in bend-over-and-pick-up position and my work load is on the rise, I'm glad I didn't stick those babies "out of the way;" i would have missed out on so much.
OK, that was nine years and three babies ago, and after cleaning up an entire loaf of bread from the carpet (again)and fishing an unused roll of toilet paper from the boys' potty, I'm questioning my sanity and counting the dollar bills in my wallet, searching the house for the best way to rearrange what we now have to make it fit an oh-so-marvelous square of plastic and netting. I mean, I should look at the positives, right? Think how much concentration time Tate would have to actually put all those shapes into the correct openings on the little canister if he weren't free to wander the house. He would be able to link all those plastic beads together to make a . . um . . . umm . . . to make something creative. I could actually leave the pennies on the floor and not have to lean over to pick them up after a long day of Step classes and vacuuming (oh who am I kidding, i just suck those copper coins up the Dyson, anyway). But the bathroom door wouldn't have to stay shut, and i wouldn't have to hide the toilet paper in the basement. The bottom two pantry shelves would actually have FOOD on them. I wouldn't worry about the resale value of our house if I added a top lock to EVERY door in here.
But it's not just for my sanity and a decrease in housework that a play pen, er yard, would be a great asset. There are safety issues to consider. Tate can now reach the door handles and since he only has to pull down to open the door, he's been beating me to the mailbox every afternoon. Cords dangle from every end table, and the big boys aren't always meticulous in picking up their Legos and Magnetix pieces, definite choking hazards. His little fingers can also reach the top of the kitchen counters, so that loaf of bread, hot pan handle, and cell phone charger dangling just centimeters from his reach really don't stand a chance. Kind of like me in this argument.
I'm pretty much the only one on Tate's side here, considering that Daddy's cell phone went missing about three months ago and Tate was the last person seen with it. But as much as I can envision a CLEAN house, with no pots and pans to stumble over, no shampoo bottles in the playroom, and no late night remote control searches before Pawn Stars (can you imagine if it were SEC season yet?), I just can't let myself do it. As crazy as it sounds, (and really haven't i proven myself just that already) I enjoy finding destruction and room remodels as I round the corners to areas i haven't been in lately. Plus, I would never have gotten the awesome photograph of him surrounded by toilet paper on the bathroom floor if he had been "penned in." I would never receive special gifts like toothpaste, alarm clocks, and DVD's on running a 50 defense if he were spending the afternoon in a box.
I'm sure there will come a time when penning in one of my children will be more tempting than it is today, when my main goal in life will be to protect them from the grown up world: first date, driver's license, first curfew violation,(gulp) college. So even though my body is forever in bend-over-and-pick-up position and my work load is on the rise, I'm glad I didn't stick those babies "out of the way;" i would have missed out on so much.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
For Better or For Worse
I love summer for so many reasons: vacations, beaches, pools, no schedule to follow. I also love that summer always brings with it lots of weddings, and of course, lots of memories. I know some people roll their eyes at the sight of another heavy stock invitation to nuptials at sunset, but me? I start looking for a babysitter right away. There's nothing better than sitting with the man of your dreams (who happens to be sweating miserably in his tie)and watching two people promise before God and family to do everything you two have been doing for the last 11 years.
A few weeks ago, Billy and i celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary. A week before that we attended the wedding of a young couple who were embarking on the same journey we were celebrating. As we watched them together, pronounced man and wife, exiting the chapel arm in arm, I could remember being them, young and with no idea of what being married really meant. I'm amazed when i look back at how much has happened in those 11 years. The things that have grayed my hair and given me the lines on my face, I never could have imagined that day in the church. I wish I could figure out a way to give out advice to those young marrieds, but really, who wants to listen to an old woman with three children wax poetic about the ups and downs of marriage. Would they listen?
One of the ironies of getting married is that everything is planned out and executed so perfectly and the wedding goes off without a hitch. Marriage is never like that. Stemware gets broken, fine china chips, and flatware disappears and turns up later in the sandbox. Wedding pictures fade and get misplaced, dresses don't fit anymore, and the top layer of the cake you saved in the freezer goes unnoticed because SOMEONE came home from football practice exhausted. The fancy wineglasses stay on the top shelf for fear of little hands, and no one even remembers who caught the bouquet.
Everything that seemed so important in the engagement months starts to fade away and real life, and love, starts to settle in. Bills arrive, babies arrive, moving trucks arrive. New friends come and old friends go; football teams win and then they lose. Cars break down, babies get sick, and there never seems to be enough time. The more you plan, the less control you seem to have. And yet, that's the beauty of marriage. Despite the monotony of monogamy, every day is something new; something you don't know how to handle and yet you somehow figure it out, together. You buy your first house, signing papers that make your hands shake. But you do it together, two signatures, not just one. You bring home the first baby from the hospital, hands still shaking and hearts swelling with pride and praise, praying that if you don't do it right, at least maybe he will, because we're a team.
That's how you make it eleven years, 35 years, 50 years. If you're lucky, you wake up every morning next to that same person who looked so handsome in the black tuxedo, the one who still changes the oil in your van, who brings home take-out when you're just too worn out to cook, and goes outside to throw the football with the boys even though he's too tired to stand. As long as OUR boys can see what makes a marriage work, I guess i shouldn't worry about doling out all that advice to the young couples. They'll figure it out on their own, just like we do.
A few weeks ago, Billy and i celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary. A week before that we attended the wedding of a young couple who were embarking on the same journey we were celebrating. As we watched them together, pronounced man and wife, exiting the chapel arm in arm, I could remember being them, young and with no idea of what being married really meant. I'm amazed when i look back at how much has happened in those 11 years. The things that have grayed my hair and given me the lines on my face, I never could have imagined that day in the church. I wish I could figure out a way to give out advice to those young marrieds, but really, who wants to listen to an old woman with three children wax poetic about the ups and downs of marriage. Would they listen?
One of the ironies of getting married is that everything is planned out and executed so perfectly and the wedding goes off without a hitch. Marriage is never like that. Stemware gets broken, fine china chips, and flatware disappears and turns up later in the sandbox. Wedding pictures fade and get misplaced, dresses don't fit anymore, and the top layer of the cake you saved in the freezer goes unnoticed because SOMEONE came home from football practice exhausted. The fancy wineglasses stay on the top shelf for fear of little hands, and no one even remembers who caught the bouquet.
Everything that seemed so important in the engagement months starts to fade away and real life, and love, starts to settle in. Bills arrive, babies arrive, moving trucks arrive. New friends come and old friends go; football teams win and then they lose. Cars break down, babies get sick, and there never seems to be enough time. The more you plan, the less control you seem to have. And yet, that's the beauty of marriage. Despite the monotony of monogamy, every day is something new; something you don't know how to handle and yet you somehow figure it out, together. You buy your first house, signing papers that make your hands shake. But you do it together, two signatures, not just one. You bring home the first baby from the hospital, hands still shaking and hearts swelling with pride and praise, praying that if you don't do it right, at least maybe he will, because we're a team.
That's how you make it eleven years, 35 years, 50 years. If you're lucky, you wake up every morning next to that same person who looked so handsome in the black tuxedo, the one who still changes the oil in your van, who brings home take-out when you're just too worn out to cook, and goes outside to throw the football with the boys even though he's too tired to stand. As long as OUR boys can see what makes a marriage work, I guess i shouldn't worry about doling out all that advice to the young couples. They'll figure it out on their own, just like we do.
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