When Daniel was in high school (and middle school) he was the number 8.
Back in the day when I was a young 16, I would sit in the dugout at baseball games and watch number 8. I watched him pitch, catch, roam the outfield, hit, run bases. It was love.
Meanwhile his team members would sit next to me on the bench and holler strange things at him, inside jokes, followed by, "C'mon 8!" Boys in high school are, like, so weird.
Why was I in the dug out?
Well, I was the "stat chick," or "statistician," or "hot cakes."
What? Hot cakes?
Whenever we traveled for away games we would typically stop for a healthy breakfast at McDonald's and I always ordered the "hot cake" platter. Back when I was skinny and thought my metabolism would move at lightening speed forever. Ha.
I'm pretty excited that the olympics start today. And I don't really have a clue why. It's not as if I've followed any of the sports until now. Maybe there's something about watching the olympics that takes me back to '96.
I was obsessed.
I remember staying up late to watch Shannon Miller, Dominique Moceanu and Kerri Strug fight for gold in gymnastics. During the commercials I'd run into the front living room and grunt and groan while trying to do the splits and then fall flat on my back attempting some sort of hand spring. And cart wheels. I did a lot of cart wheels.
I probably won't be attempting any front or back hand springs this year.
Switching gears here, have you ever known someone who, no matter what, tends to contradict or correct everything you say in a conversation?(Now that I've typed that out I'm thinking some of you might be thinking of me. Lord, help me. I can be so argumentative.)
Well, with the person I'm thinking of, it seems that everytime I open my mouth they are standing there, like a contestant on Jeopardy, waiting to BUZZ me before the words get out of my mouth. I always leave the conversation, that I started simply to participate in a kindly discussion, feeling reprimanded and brought low. Mentally, I'm walking away kicking myself for saying what I said. Maybe I was wrong for sharing that information? I'm sorry to have offended them...it certainly wasn't my intention. And many times I'm completely dumbfounded as to what I said that required such a correction.
I love lively and stimulating discussion and debate. But this is different. In this situation I feel like my thoughts, outlook, responses, and opinions spark their disapproval.
I realize that I do need to keep a tighter reign on my tongue. That has been a deep personal struggle for me most of my life. But I find myself shying away from this person, exhausted by my recent experiences with them.
I convince myself that since they find my conversation to be simply "wrong" I'm doing them a favor by avoiding conversation altogether.
And here's the catch: I long for peaceful and charitable fellowship with this person!
My heart tells me to pray for peace in the relationship, and the grace to love and forgive this person as Christ has loved and forgiven me (can't believe I just used the phrase "my heart tells me." blah!). I'm also reminded of C.S. Lewis's perspective on fellow Christians that will one day be glorified.
I also need to be humbled. It is my pride that gets bruised when I'm told I'm wrong or out of line. So I shall continue to pray! For proper perspective and a humble, loving, forgiving, patient heart.