Gratitude By The Numbers

“For all your goodness I will keep on singing”

Have you ever wondered what the numbers on a tennis ball signify? You almost always see the brand name (Penn, Wilson) followed by a number (typically 1-4). Are higher numbered balls used for highly skilled players? Do the lower numbers mean the balls are less bouncy? No, not at all. Those little numbers do not have any technical differences. A Wilson 1 is the same as a Wilson 2 or 3. The numbers are simply used to help players distinguish their tennis balls from another’s in a multi-court environment. It helps players identify which balls belong to which court when shots are hit astray. It makes sense to number the balls, but I sometimes feel tennis ball manufacturers should be more creative with their distinguishing features. The numbering system seems so unoriginal and dated. The fact remains that all tennis balls are the same, and yet many players still have their preferences for brand and number (I was partial to Wilson 2’s for many years).

With Thanksgiving approaching, it’s easy to distinguish the things for which we should give thanks. But aren’t all blessings, like the tennis balls, the same? Should we not be equally thankful for the little things as well as the big things in life? This year, I have so many wonderful things to be thankful for:  a rewarding job, a new car, a healthy family, cheerful friends, a loving and supportive fiancé, a safe home and a future that I am looking forward to more than anything else. These blessings have rolled onto my court and found their way into my hands, many without my asking or deserving. Like the numbered tennis balls, the things I am thankful for this year are made of the same “stuff”. They are all important and all serve to bring about joy and peace in my life. I can easily distinguish each blessing from another one, but there are no differences beyond the outside identifiers. Inside my heart is where they are equally aligned. I hope you feel the same way this Thanksgiving, and throughout the year. Always let thankfulness be a part of your game.

“Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtwIT8JjddM

Choices

“Did you ever have to make up your mind?”

It’s good to have choices in life, but choosing something based on one factor or motive may or may not lead to a desirable outcome.  This week I find myself selecting a wedding venue with my fiancé. I keep secretly hoping one with a tennis court will show up to make my decision twenty times easier. I can’t help but draw comparisons between wedding planning and another transitory period of my life: graduating from high school and choosing a college.

I recall making tennis my “x-factor” in my final college decision-making process. I knew two things back in high school when I was choosing which college I would attend: that I wanted to play tennis and study sports management. Which school offered me the best chance to be a part of a team? Which one presented the most attractive overall program? What university would allow me to play at my highest level? What could I afford, and guarantee a quality education to boot? If only choosing the right venue for my wedding worked in a similar manner. This engagement period is just like senior year. There is a huge lead-in (hints of a ring) and when you finally arrive at that “senior” status (I’m engaged, he proposed!) the excitement carries you through several months. The planning begins immediately for the future when you enter senior year. Where will I go to college and what will I study? Will I be able to play tennis and get a scholarship? You start visiting colleges and making lists. In the engagement scenario, it’s much of the same. Once the phone calls die down and news spreads throughout the office, it’s time to get out the old pen and paper and start listing Pros and Cons for every venue. Which one offers photography and do any include catering in the package? What venues can I see myself falling in love with time and time again when I look back at that big day?

I chose Fredonia State University as my undergraduate college because it had the most personality. Looking back, I could have chosen any of the schools I applied to because I was accepted at all of them (just as I can choose any venue, so long as they have a date in March when we are planning to wed). I could have gone to Niagara University on scholarship and played on the tennis team. I could have stayed close to home and saved on room and board, while very likely making the team as a walk-on. But I chose FSU because that was the school where I knew I could play my best tennis, receive an education and experience life away from home. I was sold on the personality of the campus, and my first meeting with the tennis coach sealed my decision. Tennis was the selling point in my heart. It’s the same way when choosing my wedding venue. My fiancé and I are traditionalists. We want a place that offers us the chance to bring out that part of our personalities. We want a place that mixes well with our own personalities. We’re also romantics, who know that whatever choice we make will create a special occasion. I’m not sure what our x-factor is. It certainly could be tennis, as impractical as it sounds. But I think deep down the two of us know the decision will come down to what venue displays the best personality. It’s such a great feeling when you finally make that choice. I remember declaring my college for the first time and writing my name inside my tennis bag with a Fredonia sticker on it. Big choices demand relief, and that is how I will feel when we arrive at our decision. In the meantime, it’s time to enjoy the tennis of October with the man I love. Now that's an easy choice.

“Say yes to one and let the other one ride…”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-cypJhxt6E8

Flirting With Perfection

“The vacancy that sat in my heart is a space that now you hold”

Six months ago, a young man from Plano, Texas asked my parents if he could court me. I thought that gesture was the perfect introduction for my parents to the man I had come to adore in the short time we had known each other. It wasn’t long at all before I discovered how perfect this man was for me. The first time I challenged him to a tennis match, he accepted.  He may have regretted that decision initially, though his confidence was soaring when the score read “love-love”. I flirted with perfection in that match, nearly defeating him 6-0, 6-0. He did manage one game off of me, an impressive feat considering he hadn’t actually taken a single tennis lesson his entire life. On the other side of the court, I had toiled since age seven through tennis lessons, camps, clinics and competitions. After our first match, I realized I had created a monster, or fueled the competitive monster within him. It was a good monster though; the kind that gets his kicks on the tennis court and stays in line when off the court. He’s one of the “good” ones.  I’m certain he’s a keeper.  I finally have the perfect partner in all things and our future together is an auspicious one.

A rally is a sequence of shots within a point.  The completion of a point changes the score. There are short rallies in life where we feel a slow rise to the top, only to later discover it was a momentary high.  The score may change, but it’s not the ideal outcome. Other rallies end suddenly or slowly in defeat, leaving us dejected and discouraged. Rallies are difficult to sustain. Before I met Robert, I wondered if I could stay the course. I had fallen short of the perfect rally many times before. I had bailed early or not early enough. Sometimes I rallied persistently but was easily victorious over a non-pursuing opponent. More often, I walked away from the courts and rallies that had no signs of persisting.  The returns were too shallow to sustain.

God brought Robert into my life in such an unpredictable and unexpected way. It was as if our Lord had disguised and planted the perfect drop-shot in my court, and I had to rush to meet it. I did meet it, with a rally I had never known could persist so fully. Robert is persistent. This persistence is what initially drew me to him, though having dimples certainly helped his case. He persistently works on his serve and reminds me a lot of myself in his approach to the game. It’s refreshing to know there is another like-minded tennis stickler out there. Robert is gaining ground on me. His persistent game is perfecting itself with each match. I love watching him rally with me. I even hope he defeats me one day because with him, I can never truly lose. That’s why he’s the perfect opponent no matter what the score.

Robert’s rallies are the kind that can last forever. They’re as engaging and fetching as he is. One of the first memories I have of him is his charming, well-intentioned and successful attempt to extend our second date into a six hour affair. He is so adept and savvy when it comes to life’s important moments beyond the baseline. On the court, he challenges my return of serve and backhand slice. Robert brings a kind of rhythm to my game (he even dances to music on the court when prompted) and puts the beat in my heart over and over again. Robert is also a wealth of knowledge and is constantly trying to improve his game by observing the pros (always an admirable quality in the best of tennis players and people). He invests his heart into everything and this is perhaps what I love most about him.

The Lord has constructed us the perfect rally, a complementary give and take relationship both on and off the court. As God’s children, we can’t often see His ways early in the game. The first set is not always an indication of the final result. It’s rare to establish “court” in the first set. Though, somehow, someway, that set comes along where we flirt with perfection and just know what the final result will indicate. God’s ways are always perfect and I feel as if I am flirting with perfection when Robert and I take the court. The rallies that sustain and persist are the ones that hold the most meaning. The indefectible, perfect ones. The sequences of shots that don’t reflect in the score but still completely changes you are the ones to embrace in this life.

“Just know that I’m always parallel on the other side”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tsW1G1JlgRU

A Point to Ponder

“You may not know this, but you are everything you ever needed”

Imagine for a moment you’re behind in a tennis game, about to be broken on serve, with the score reading 30-40. You serve up an ace to knot the score at deuce and fight off the break chance. Imagine doing this repeatedly throughout a match. Every time you get close to going down a break, it’s you who strikes back. There are some players who continually fend off break points, and win matches by a hair. What is it that lifts them up in those moments and keeps them from losing it? I think it’s the same stamina, perseverance and will that propel us through life’s near breaks. Do you ponder these points only when you are forced to withstand them, or do you actively seek to avoid such pivotal situations?

I like to think as the great Yankee Yogi Berra did: “It ain’t over ‘til it’s over” is a great catchphrase for the positive, persevering mind. I often wonder if we truly believe that though. Yesterday I was watching Serena Williams topple Flavia Pennetta in the U.S. Open quarterfinal. Williams all but had the match in the bag after the first few games of the second set even though the match wasn’t officially in the books. How do we determine the point where we can no longer fend off a break? Have you ever stood by as someone’s life completely fell apart, point after point? Some of the time, there is more than meets the eye. Underneath the surface of our lives, of our serves, often lies the inability to fend off the break. You can come out on the other side knotted at deuce, avoid the situation entirely or declare it over before the end begins. The outcome is all in what you believe, and that is the main point to ponder.

“But we’ll come back alive, ‘cause only the strong survive”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HqSm90hlZM

The Injured Player's Predicament

“I’ll mend myself before it gets me”

With today’s news of defending champion, Raphael Nadal’s withdrawal from the U.S. Open, it makes sense to talk tennis injuries. Injuries are inevitable in sport. The human body can only take so much wear and tear before it breaks down. Conditioning can help reduce the risk of injury in many cases. But even the fittest athletes suffer ailments from overuse, mechanical breakdowns and freak accidents. Nadal’s aggravated right wrist is a setback for fans who were hoping to see another Novak/Nadal showdown. Roger Federer will certainly benefit from his rival’s withdrawal. Federer, the favorite, will land the number two seed in the tournament.  Rafa’s absence also opens up the field for other talented players on the men’s side.

Nadal is a warrior, with violent and stabbing groundstrokes. Tennis is a sport where injuries cannot be taken lightly, where players cannot just shake or brush off the pain. The wrist, elbow and forearm are valuable and delicate essentials in the sport of tennis. Baseball, hockey and basketball players may suffer wrist pain or elbow injuries and still be able to participate. But at what cost is an injury more of a serious pitfall than losing court, ice or turf time?  Professional and college players have the advantage of staff physicians to advise them whether to play or rest. The casual sports participant does not always have the wherewithal to nurse an injury, and so the injured player’s dilemma often ensues. I have been in this boat many times. Most recently, I have suffered a stabbing, sharp pain to my shoulder and neck following heavy hitting sessions. I love tennis and have been far too stubborn to rest what I believe is a reactivated pinched nerve. At what point should we “club players” withdraw from the sports we love so much? Do you have more to lose by withdrawing?

Obviously, the answer lies in the extent of the injury. It is not smart to play through an injury that could escalate into something more severe with permanent damage. Only you can know your body, and each athlete responds differently to injuries. Be smart. Pride should not be a reason you continue playing when injured. If only I could take my own advice…or a cue from Mr. Nadal.

“I’m fallen down but I’ll rise above this”

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3WhJIdwS52U

Trophies

“..and mirrors of success reflect in me”

A trophy is a reward of evidence and recognition for a specific accomplishment. They are symbols of victory and merit. Trophies are most often handed out to the winners of sporting events. Seldom few elite tennis players rise through the ranks without being recipients of at least a few trophies along the way. Their trophies are nothing more than prizes, an endgame for the work that produced recognition.

My first trophy was awarded to me as an eleven-year-old Little Leaguer. As a group, our Phillies softball team earned the trophy for the Major Girls’ title. The golden-colored softball player that stands on top of the marble platform is a symbol specific to the sport of softball. It is symbolic of hard work and effort. Not every Little Leaguer receives a trophy just for showing up to the ball field every game. No, the trophies are dedicated to those few who accomplish victory. But some of us are victorious in other ways, in ways that don’t always warrant a trophy. Trophies are designed for winners, but the real reward comes long after the trophy begins collecting dust.

What would your life’s trophy look like? Our true contributions, the ones that touch people’s lives, most often go unrecognized. Has someone ever “won you over” without a trophy? There are folks who never know their effort has produced a winner. Think about all these intangible actions for a moment: A smile or understanding gaze. A few words spoken to change someone’s mind. The silent prayers. The friend who gives gracefully. Battlefield soldiers long forgotten in good season. Relationships joined together without proof or reason.  It’s so easy to declare a winner in sports. The tennis player who tallies the highest amount of games will earn that trophy. The player who prevails always receives the highest recognition.  There are accomplishments in life too. Merit awards. Talent trophies. Career recognitions. These symbols are all very special, but I argue the most important trophy of all is the one no ever places on a mantle. The trophy unseen, the one earned not just by tangible contributions, is the true reward.

“…I’m that star up in the sky”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkzRHxd_4ZE

Story Of My Life

“She told me in the morning she don’t feel the same about me in her bones…”

 

If cars could talk..

 

“Hi, my name is Bruce. I am supposedly named after Bruce Wayne a.k.a Batman. A superhero I am not, but don’t tell my owner that. She seems to think I am as good as any Batmobile ever constructed. I remember the first time she spotted me at the car lot in Middletown, New York. She knew I was the one and my engine revved a little quicker at the thought of driving home with her. After our test drive together, I overheard her tell the salesman she could pick me up the next day. It still baffles me that she selected me over the other models. I had been a “loaner” my while three years so what did I know about love at first drive?

Our first year in Goshen was special. She took me everywhere, and took good care of me too. I was a little concerned about the way she handled me, especially at night. She never wore her glasses and I was scared for my life a time or two. I had heard stories from friends about crashes and wrecks, and wanted no part of that lifestyle. It was bad enough we had to ride through Hurricane Irene together. I did my best to stay on the road and above the water. And then there was the time she not-so-brilliantly decided to drive to work in an ice storm. She must have been nervous because she turned around and landed in a ditch. My wheels were too weak to escape the slick black ice. I didn’t leave her stranded though. I eventually pulled her out of there, but she had to keep stepping on my brakes and accelerator. I thought for sure I was going to need outside assistance.

One time, I hit a deer on Goshen Turnpike. I hear this isn’t so rare for cars driving in that area. The deer survived. Our trips to New Paltz were also intriguing. She would sit inside me and study if we arrived early. A stranger tried to get in me one night after her late class. She was so bold and forward, approaching him and declaring to him that this was HER car. I was so proud, but also kept thinking to myself how silly for a girl to approach a man trying to open her car door. It turned out to be an honest mistake by another tired student.

Yep, we had some great memories. I have taken her on trips and job interviews. Sometimes she would pray and a time or two, I even heard her crying. She kept a box of tissues in my back seat for these occasions. A few years back, she informed me she was moving to Texas. I was up for the trip, until I realized we would not be taking the drive together. She dropped me off with a car transport company and accidentally left a can of hair mousse in my back seat. Hair mousse? In Texas heat? What was she thinking? I know she thought the can would explode, blow out my windows and leave fresh smelling white mousse all over the backseat. I surprised her though by being my reliable self. It did earn me the nickname “Moosie Brucie” from my peers. I never will live that one down. Austin, Texas has been my home the past two years and it’s a little extreme for my black exterior. I am started to fade and rust. The friends she allows to see me have started making comments.

My owner has had some interesting guests ride along. Her sister is always a good one because she is sarcastic with me. I think she secretly adores me though. She has this guy she really likes now too. He sings all the songs I play, so he’s okay in my book. He always tells her to “drive safe” and occasionally carries items to my trunk for her. My backseat has been neglected. She will often throw her purse back there, but the last few people to ride in the back were children. My back doors are a bit hard to open at times, so I think my owner discourages anyone from riding there. Her parents are pretty cool. They drive a Nissan too, my older brother the Murano.

I guess when you get older, louder and start leaking exhaust, it’s time to be traded in. The only owner I ever knew is about ready to say goodbye to me for a newer version. I hope he knows and appreciates what he has in her. She drove me crazy at times, but I kept her safe and warm. What more could a girl want? Maybe I am her superhero, or perhaps she gave me more credit than I had due.

Sincerely,

Bruce”

“The story of my life, I take her home, I drive all night to keep her warm…and time is frozen”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG2piMjhIVY

Just Beyond Reach

“And everyone knows I’m in over my head, over my head”

The lob is one of the fundamental shots in tennis. It is essential in doubles and singles play to be able to place the ball behind your opponent. A good topspin lob will buy you time when on the defensive or be the put away offensive shot you need to cap off a rally.  This tennis passing shot is a high percentage option when you need to get out of a defensive position. A lob can often get you out of trouble against an aggressive net player.  Dependable lobs have the ability to throw an opponent off guard because their height and depth are designed to land beyond their reach. Your opponent will be forced to chase the ball and play at least one more shot. An overhead smash becomes more difficult for an opponent when they are handed a well-executed lob. Though it can be a highly effective shot, the lob is so often underutilized.

From a tennis standpoint, it’s awfully debilitating to be beaten at net by a deep lob to the backcourt. The ball is visible, but just out of my reach. The shot appears attainable until I take that first step and realize it’s beyond being pursued. It reminds me of many of life’s circumstances: the craft of reading a situation without the ability to act.

What is beyond reach in your life right now? What “shots” can you use more often if only they were dependable and you were aggressive enough to pursue them? Are you usually on the defensive or offensive?  I think everyone can call to mind a point in their life where they viewed something as beyond their reach. I wonder if we all under-use our high percentage shots, thinking they will pit us on the defensive. What passing shots are you allowing to pass you by? I have found that what I often perceive as beyond reach is really just an off-guard moment. It is a moment of strategy and setting yourself up for the best possible outcome (the high percentages). Truly nothing worth attaining is beyond the reach of someone who knows what they need to do. If there is something you would like to pursue, you only have to execute the shot and/or reassess your position on the court.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWRISdwHuwY

“I’d rather run the other way than stay and see”

Finishing

We all have our battles to fight. Never forget the people God uses to help you defeat them.

"And when you're tired of fighting, chained by your control..."

I flipped over the rubbery maroon scorecard. One-zero in my favor. The net between us prevented us from getting too close. I knew not to get too close. She knew too. It would hurt too much when she went away. If only nets could really spare us the pain of getting close. The scorecards, with their jumbo white numbers, always seemed to stick together. Like good friends in sports jerseys.

We finished the set. I won. It was the last tennis match she would ever play and it wasn’t even a complete match. Dayle was too tired to continue. Her blond hair, which usually lit up her face, was crumbling thin. But her laugh, even after she lost a match, was something I would never forget. It came from a deep place and bellied out of her with such prettiness and comfort.  

She wore designer sunglasses the last time we spoke. I stood in front of the club admiring her courage. I still saw the troubled light in her eyes through the shaded fashion frames.  I could taste her fear and smell her sorrow.

She was my mentor, and good friend. I tried to emulate her way with people, her persona. I respected her keen judgment and knack for decision-making. She had impeccable instincts, a mother-like quality that captured my pride. At times, I felt as if I was her very daughter.

Nothing prepares you for death. Even when you see it coming and know the shadow of death is lurking, you are pained with shock and sadness.

I scurried to my car after saying goodbye. My pulse ached for a wrist. It yearned for human contact, a warm touch. I needed a hand to hold, to tell me everything was going to be fine. I watched Dayle from a distance because I could no longer stand to be nearer to her than I already had been. She carried a green purse and began to tuck her white hat into it. Dayle folded the hat and her brilliant hands secured it loosely inside the purse. I saw her yawn her last yawn. Watered eyes. Wide open mouth. Smiling ears. My heart knew, somehow sensed the end.

"Your world's not falling apart; it's falling into place."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIZitK6_IMQ
 

You Got It

“I run after you like a fool would do…”

It’s been nearly twenty years since I recall my father going on an overnight business trip. I don’t remember the destination. It could have been Minneapolis, Cincinnati or Kalamazoo. I have postcards and mementos from all three cities. My dad didn’t often go out of town, but when he did my sister and I made his homecoming a welcome one. The memory that stands out most is when we picked him up from dropping off his rental car one year. Our mother, always the creative one, suggested we perform a song for dad on the way home. Her idea was to change the lyrics to Brenton Wood’s “Baby You Got It”—and so the song became, “Daddy You Got It”. I wish I still had the recreated lyrics on hand to share. I know our dad got a kick out of our performance, and I am sure he recalls that memory with a smile. I am also pretty certain my dad still made time to throw around the softball with me upon his return. He was always available like that.

Dad has been supportive and appreciative of all our thoughtful efforts. As the only man in a household of three women, my father is also a patient, good sport. He has shaped me into being tougher and stronger. My dad has taught me to never cut corners, how to fight for what is meaningful and that courage can get me through any obstacle. His words have carried a lot of weight to me throughout the years. It was my father who pointed out how I am braver than I think I am. Every time I’d fall down, he would remind me of that. He still does remind me. Dad was there for us when mom was sick with breast cancer. He was there when I threw my first pitch in a real softball game. He comforted me when my favorite football team lost the Superbowl. Dad dropped me off when I went to the junior prom and first overnight tennis camp. He was there to pick me up from the train station after my first job interview and on my last day of college. Dad hasn’t missed any milestone in my life, though I am told he nearly missed me being born (those hospital cafeterias have a way of distracting him). My dad is more than just a father though. He is a talented photographer, a retired accountant, an astute WWII buff, a great softball coach, a fan of the Yoohoo beverage, an eyewitness to 9/11, degreed in undergraduate psychology, a former paper carrier (just like me) and a man who was the first to tell me I am beautiful. I may be biased as his little girl, but my father is one of the best men I know. Happy Father’s Day to my dad, and to all other fathers who help influence the lives of their children.

“But mama didn’t raise no fool and I should know”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BDTFxK-ssnk

An Approach That Works

“Looks like a girl but she’s a flame…”

Sometimes in tennis, you find an approach that works and stick with it. The rhythm, momentum and calls all go your way.  Like a conductor, you dictate the song on the court. Other times, you try many different schemes and approaches, only to fall short of your goals. The songs don’t sound in tune or on key; the shots don’t fall where they should fall. Win or lose, an approach that works is what keeps your head in the game. It’s what pushes you into the next match, expecting to improve or expecting to fail. Tomorrow is my birthday and another year to look back at all the approaches that worked and didn’t work. I’ve come to the conclusion this past year’s approach has most definitely been one that works. And, I expect to continue it.

I’ve learned so much in the twelve months since I turned the dreaded thirty. There are always a multitude of lessons to be learned in life, but this year in particular has been one of great discovery. I’ve discovered something about change: that change is scary, but necessary. I’ve learned how tremendous it is to have people on your side to help you make difficult decisions. The empowerment that comes with moving on and letting go is another discovery I have come to trust this year. I’ve learned that the people who are in your corner are the ones who will help you succeed.  I am grateful for those folks who have had my back. People come and go from our lives, but each one leaves a meaningful impact. I’ve recently discovered what love looks like, finally: it’s not imaginary, unreturned or selfish; love is a blessing that reaches part of your core. It’s the person who is perfect for you, and I have found him. Blessed I am indeed, for answered prayers. This year has also marked the beginning of a new approach for me. I did not once give up, no matter what it was I was trying to achieve. Because of that, I believe this has been one of the happiest years of my life. I’ve laughed a ton this year, and that fun approach is another one to apply in all areas of life.

In this world of catastrophe, I have both feet on the ground. My head may in the clouds, but I’m not backing down. I will be thankful when the sun comes out on May 17^th and I turn to the tennis court once again with an approach that works.

“She’s living in a world and it’s on fire…”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J91ti_MpdHA

Shock Absorbers

“Nothing’s so loud as hearing when we lie…”

Anti-vibration devices for tennis have been around since the 1960’s. Many tennis players believe the use of vibration dampeners, also known as shock absorbers, reduce vibrations and change the feel of contact between the ball and racquet. Some tennis players also believe placing a shock absorber on the strings allows for more flexibility and reduces the chance of tennis elbow injuries. Actual research suggests there is no link between tennis elbow and the absence of a shock absorber, but they sure do look cool on the racquet. Many come in different shapes, colors and sizes (I prefer the Wilson “W”). Homemade shock absorbers are also effective in creating that mental and psychological comfort most players seek. Think rubber bands only have a use in the office?

What about the human shock absorber? Last week, I witnessed a terrible car accident on the way home from work. I drove by, on the other side of the road, just as it was happening and saw people rushing out of their vehicles to comfort the people involved in the crash. One SUV was completely flipped over and the other car was so smashed in it had to have been totaled. Strangers were running to their aid, helping the victims absorb the shock and damage of the accident. The image I still can’t get out of my head was of the man, in shock, sobbing in the arms of a woman who rushed to his side. She was his shock absorber in that moment. Who is your shock absorber? Have you ever altered the sound of vibration or prevented the shock of impact for another?

“The air outside so soft is saying everything, everything.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqBnu-w8Bcs

Suffering

“By your plan, that’s just the way it is”

I suffered a tough break in the summer after fifth grade when I broke my wrist on the softball field. In a small way, I always felt that injury became a symbol of my suffering in years to come. The scar on my left wrist is a reminder—a reminder of my physical suffering and my suffering as a player who just wanted to swim and play ball with the rest of the All-Stars that summer. It’s an unpleasant reminder of how cruel and unfair life can be to those who don’t deserve to suffer. My experience in a cast, with a broken left wrist, paved the way for my ability to face trials. I reflect on that sometimes, especially on damp days when I feel a twinge of sharp pain in my wrist. I reflect, thinking how I was always so careful and meticulous in most things. Pitching a softball was no exception. It was an art I strove to perfect. Injuries and illnesses can damage our egos. They can change our perceptions and feelings. They can alter the way we approach certain areas in life. The outcomes from our sufferings bleed into our tomorrow.

With Lenten season in full swing, it seems appropriate to talk about penance, suffering and reflection. Penance---for those acts deserving a show of sorrow for sin. Suffering—for our personal trials and those who need healing. Reflection—on today, yesterday and always. When I broke my wrist, it was like my forty days of Lenten fasting. I was forced to be humble with a broken bone and reduced play time. Lent is a time for humbling ourselves. Who greater a model of humiliation than Jesus? Jesus, the suffering servant himself. There has been a lot of suffering, at home and abroad, the past few weeks. The turmoil in Crimea has needlessly caused many innocent and undeserving people to suffer. Last week, I found out a member of my church’s congregation passed away. And just today I learned that one of my dearest friends is suffering.

Sports are a great reminder that everything achievable is grievously surrendered. Every achievement ends.  Perhaps not in suffering or injury, but it ends. Even Derek Jeter’s days as a baseball player will come to a close. And as morbid and depressing as all this sounds, it’s a clear reminder to me about the meaning of Lent. Lent is about self-punishment, envisioning the end and reflecting on the joy as well as the suffering. It is so much akin to sports because sports are a circuit for all of these things too. With my healed left wrist clasped to my right, this Lenten season I am praying for the people who suffer.

“In the good times and bad, You are on your throne”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9xPzTSpbYmk

Heart Race

“This place is the beat of my heart”

Today is Valentine’s Day, and as procrastinators scramble to the nearest grocery or drug store to pick out something for their sweetheart, I can’t help but dwell on how our hearts are always moving. They are always sending us this way and that. Do we listen to our hearts more than we should, or not enough? I think I often forget that the heart is a muscle. It has to be trained and worked out too. Many people neglect this fact and go through the motions with seemingly a lot of love for someone, only to find out it wasn’t really love at all. Or, they don’t work hard enough at growing the heart muscle, and give up too soon on something that will make them happy.

I loved Valentine’s Day when I was young. Every year, I would pick out the same teddy bear Valentines. Who doesn’t love getting cute little cards with people’s first names on them? Who doesn’t love getting chocolate? As a kid, Valentine’s Day didn’t seem forced. I can argue today, as an adult, that is does seemed forced. It’s very forced, actually. Valentine’s Day loses some of the romance in all of the movement and hustle and bustle (how romantic is it to receive a Hallmark card and conversation hearts in the first place?). There is little element of surprise in Valentine’s Day. Why would I want to give someone a pre-packaged box of the same chocolates I saw my neighbor buying her husband…on the same exact day I gave one to my significant other? The expectation is that you are expected to participate in Valentine’s Day if you are in a relationship. How boring, I say. Love should never be that trivial or routine. It’s like saying love is on standby every other day of the year. It’s not like celebrating someone’s birth, where the day is etched in history and personal. No, love cannot be pigeonholed into one way or day.

Showing love and having heart are my go-to themes when writing because it’s such an important part of life. In fact, I named one of the characters in my fictional novel-in-progress Corwin because it means ‘friend of the heart’. Heart is a superb word for poetry because it rhymes with so many other words. It is also a valid word for use in prose because it conveys and describes so many character traits, emotions and feelings. Heart is heard throughout the sports world too. Have you known an athlete who is “all heart” or “always puts his/her heart into every game”? What does the phrase “heart of the order” mean in baseball, or “heart of the team” in team sports?

Heart, in sports, is not about doing what everyone else does in the same way everyone else does it. No. Heart it about racing, not simply running. Anyone can run. Do you have someone or something in your life that makes your heart race? Really race? You’re lucky if you know the feeling. It is unlike any other.

Heart is your center of spirit, the part of you that beats even when beaten, pumps even when pulled, and loves even when there is hate. The human heart, literally and figuratively, has authority. It has power to be used for anything at all. You cannot fake “having heart”, which is why I believe Valentine’s Day is merely a “holiday” to celebrate going through the motions of love.

“It’s sweet and it’s sad and it’s true how it doesn’t look bitter on you”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HiNV1rMNXE0

The Underdog

“For greater things have yet to come…”

It was just Saturday when I thought no man in professional tennis was capable of taking down the great Rafael Nadal. Then, along came Stanislas Wawrinka. A man who had never won a set against the Spaniard (in twelve tries) ended up defeating the champion in four sets. A Swiss player took this year’s Australian Open men’s final, and it wasn’t Roger Federer. Wawrinka won the match with his strong serve and pestering forehand. It was an upset in a Grand Slam littered with upsets on both the men’s and women’s draw.   

The possibility of an upset win makes sport intriguing. It provides an element of the impossible that serves to cultivate a buzz. This excitement never seems to get old. We are thrill seekers, yes. But more than that, we are fans who pull for the David to defeat the Goliath. How many times have we witnessed a bracket buster during March Madness only to find ourselves jumping on said underdog’s bandwagon? How sweet is it to see that obscure country earn a gold medal in the Olympic Games by defeating one of the world powers? Is it not hard to get caught up in the thrill of a come-from-behind win, especially one that is unexpected and seemingly out of reach?

It’s true of most things in life. There are some among us who shop at the mom and pop store and shun the corporate giants. We may buy the Grammy winning songs on itunes, but we purchase the entire underground punk record in the store the day it is released. We’re always looking for the next big thing, the next breakout brand or artist or athlete. But what we really like is discovering them first, for ourselves. Most of us like to be on the verge of something yet to come. The greater things that are to come are what keep us going.

This holds true for me too. I cheer for three of possibly the most loved/hated teams in America: the Yankees, Cowboys and Ohio State Buckeyes. They dominate their sports in terms of power, prestige and perceived talent. The popularity of these organizations has little to do with why I became a fan. I would like to think that the more each of these teams becomes an underdog (if ever any of them do), the more I would be excited to root for them. There is definitely something to be said about the Goliaths who can overtake anybody. They’re predictably great. But, there is still plenty to be done…and that is where the hope of possibility lies. I think in terms of what lies ahead for me and know there are still things to be done. Greater things.

“…and greater things are still be done in this city.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d61LamkXfwk