My knee is all scraped up and it hurts (wah, poor me) more on that later.
We had a (long) great weekend! The praise band concert was well attended and our home-grown, local musicians did a great job. We kept it simple and sought to provide a venue for praise. I was very proud of everyone and the guitar solo leading into Days of Elijah by Mr. Vallejo was amazing.
Easter Sunday was a positive, encouraging time for us all. Imagine the difference it would make if we approached every Sunday like Easter Sunday. I know, I know "we celebrate the resurrection every Sunday . . ." That’s not what I’m talking about. I mean what if people made an effort to be a church every Sunday like it was Easter Sunday. What if church leaders made an effort to make every Sunday as special? It’s not about entertainment or spectacle so don’t even go there. It is about giving our best effort, presenting our best offering each time we gather. Mediocrity is not spiritual.
We joined Madison’s softball team for an Easter picnic and parent / kid softball game. There’s a rule in parent / kid softball games . . . you can’t strike out when your daughter is pitching and you can’t get thrown out by your daughter. Now, of course, you can strike out and be thrown out but if you have any ounce of parental dignity you make sure it doesn’t happen. Madison has improved since I faced her the last time. In two at bats I popped up twice (batting left handed) to the opposite field.
I got on base the first time because the ball had so much spin on it the third basewoman could not catch it. Eventually I found myself at third. The runner ahead of me was thrown out at the plate and the catcher flipped the ball back to the pitcher (Madison) who turned around to walk back to the mound. Since I had a generous lead and she never looked me back I decided to use my blazing speed and steal home. 3/4’s of the way there Madison was alerted to my attempt - probably the sonic boom as I broke the sound barrier - she spun around and threw to the catcher who was doing a great job of blocking the plate.
I knew I had a decision to make at this point:
a. Run over the 14 year old catcher (she’s a big girl, she looked like she could take it)
b. Be thrown out trying to steal home - suffering the shame and embarrassment of not being able to hit off of her and be thrown out by her trying to steal home.
or,
c. Slide baby, slide!
My knee is all scraped up and it hurts! It feels a bit like SAFE!
