For some reason over the past year, Levi has been fascinated by the movie "Gettysburg". I will come home from work and he will greet me with, "Daddy, I watched the Gettysburg movie without you today. Two times." On Tuesday and Thursday, Levi doesn't have school so he is home alone with Jodi. He will wake up and want to watch the movie. He will set up his "Gettysburg" army men and any other little action figure he can find and creat a battlefield in the living room. He plays army for the duration of the movie. It is amazing the details he remembers. He wants to take a trip to Gettysburg to see the cannon. I think I will take him this summer.
I came home one day and he had his cowboy hat on his head and his gun holster around his waist. I said, "Hey cowboy!" He stopped, looked at me and stated, "Daddy, I'm not a cowboy, I'm General Buford." General John Buford was the Federal cavalry officer who held off the Confederate army on the first day of the battle.
He said the other day that he watched the movie while I was working but only got to the part when they were in the trees. I wasn't sure which part he meant so he explained a little more plainly, "I got to the part where Colonel Chamberlain was running down the hill." The 20th Maine Regiment held Little Round Top on Day 2 of the battle.
I picked him up from baseball practice last week and was taking him to Anna Clair's school music program. Jodi had gone earlier and taken Anna Clair. On the way to the school I asked Levi if Jodi had fed them supper. He, without missing a beat, said, "Momma's trying to break me and Anna Clair by not feeding us. (Pause) We ain't broke yet." You may remember when the other Maine regiment was being brought to the 20th Maine, they were mutineers and the spokesman told Colonel Chamberlain that very line, "They are trying to break us by not feeding us..."
I am excited that Levi is expressing such an interest in something historical. I hope he continues this journey and lives his life looking back to history to help him live each day the best that he can. A thought, maybe I will try to get him interested in the history of golf. Then he and I can take a trip to St. Andrew's. Mmmm.
I am thankful that Levi has chosen things that he and I can do together. As close as we are now, sharing time doing things together (baseball, basketball, history, etc.) will solidify that relationship and allow it to flourish. As great as these things are and will be, I also enjoy the times spent in spiritual conversations with him now and I look forward to seeing his faith grow. The blessing is that for the Christian, all things are seen through spiritual eyes.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Monday, April 23, 2007
Faith Exhibited
As you may know, we have a couple of people at Circleville who are battling health issues today. I would like you to pray for these people and their families. Hank Rife is at Lancaster hospital fighting cancer and related ailments from the chemotherapy. His family is struggling with his illness. He went to the doctor about 3 months ago with a back ache and has since been diagnosed with cancer. Hank told me a few days ago that all he can do is trust in God. Also, Art Taylor is in Riverside hospital scheduled for surgery on his stomach 4/24. They may have to remove about 2/3 of his stomach. He has struggled for about one and a half years being unable to digest food and throwing up. He also has a great spiritual perspective.
There are times that I just take things for granted. It is a joy for me to visit with people like Hank and Art because they are good examples for me. They have allowed the blessings of God throughout their lives to train them to rely on these blessings when the trials come. I am reminded of Paul's words in Philippians 4:4-7
Rejoice in the Lord always. Again I will say, rejoice! Let your gentleness be known to all men. The Lord is at hand. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Aren't you thankful for the peace of God? Aren't you glad it is there to guard your heart and mind? Isn't spiritual rejoicing much better than worldly anxiety?
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Baseball
With the start of the baseball season a couple of weeks ago and our maiden voyage into youth baseball this spring, I recalled this essay I penned 2 years ago this summer. My perspective has changed only a little now that Anna Clair and Levi are playing but it is still about the fun. I know that it looks like Marty and Joe will both be gone soon; how things change. I hope you enjoy the post.
The Game on the Sandlot
I used to hear the old men talk about their days on the sandlot. They spoke of the anticipation of endless summer days playing baseball. They didn’t need 18 guys to play; they could field 2 teams with only 4. They styled their game from the one their heroes played: Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Joe Dimaggio, Robin Roberts, Hank Aaron. There is something about baseball that gets inside of the young boy who will let it. It takes root and creates a special place deep inside. This is true of any era; for me it was Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, and the rest of the Big Red Machine. The result is a lifelong fascination and now I, as one of the “old men” find myself recalling my own days on the sandlot.
In a day when many young boys would rather watch TV or sit in front of computer animated games, it was refreshing to hear the ping of the aluminum bat from the yard behind our house. I, as the “old man” sat on the patio with my eyes closed just listening to the sounds, losing myself in nostalgia. It was as if Mikey, Tommy, Eddie, John, Scott, Kenny, and me had made a triumphant return to childhood.
It was a beautiful day for baseball. A deep azure sky spotted with a few wispy clouds was overhead. The sounds of the airplane engine’s roar and the distant train whistle did not interfere. A slight breeze offered a welcome relief from the afternoon sunshine. A certain familiarity was present: “He was out of the baseline!” “No I wasn’t!” “Stay on base, he’s holding the ball!” “I should have dove and got him out.” “What’s the count blue?” “Ghost runner on third.”
I am brought back to the year 2005 by the ring tone on one of the boys’ cell phones. The game was halted. In my day someone’s sister showed up with a message from Mom that it was time to eat dinner; now they just call on the cell phone. I don’t want to complain too much because, hey, they are still playing the game of baseball on the sandlot. It’s a far cry from the business-driven Big Leagues. For these young boys it’s still a game. I don’t watch as many games or listen to Marty and Steve call the Reds game as often (Joe has since retired), but I must say the seed planted 30 years ago is still inside and I plan on planting it in my 3-year old son. I purchased him his first real baseball glove this week, a black leather one just like mine. “I love my new mitten Daddy.” He doesn’t always catch the ball and it doesn’t always go exactly where he throws it. He doesn’t always hit it either; but he is learning it’s more about the fun to be had with 2 people in the backyard with a baseball. I think I’ll go over to the sandlot behind the house and water those seeds. I’ll tell them to keep playing the game and to never forget it’s more about the fun. I’ll tell them that 30 years from now, all they will be able to remember is the fun.
The Game on the Sandlot
I used to hear the old men talk about their days on the sandlot. They spoke of the anticipation of endless summer days playing baseball. They didn’t need 18 guys to play; they could field 2 teams with only 4. They styled their game from the one their heroes played: Babe Ruth, Mickey Mantle, Joe Dimaggio, Robin Roberts, Hank Aaron. There is something about baseball that gets inside of the young boy who will let it. It takes root and creates a special place deep inside. This is true of any era; for me it was Johnny Bench, Pete Rose, and the rest of the Big Red Machine. The result is a lifelong fascination and now I, as one of the “old men” find myself recalling my own days on the sandlot.
In a day when many young boys would rather watch TV or sit in front of computer animated games, it was refreshing to hear the ping of the aluminum bat from the yard behind our house. I, as the “old man” sat on the patio with my eyes closed just listening to the sounds, losing myself in nostalgia. It was as if Mikey, Tommy, Eddie, John, Scott, Kenny, and me had made a triumphant return to childhood.
It was a beautiful day for baseball. A deep azure sky spotted with a few wispy clouds was overhead. The sounds of the airplane engine’s roar and the distant train whistle did not interfere. A slight breeze offered a welcome relief from the afternoon sunshine. A certain familiarity was present: “He was out of the baseline!” “No I wasn’t!” “Stay on base, he’s holding the ball!” “I should have dove and got him out.” “What’s the count blue?” “Ghost runner on third.”
I am brought back to the year 2005 by the ring tone on one of the boys’ cell phones. The game was halted. In my day someone’s sister showed up with a message from Mom that it was time to eat dinner; now they just call on the cell phone. I don’t want to complain too much because, hey, they are still playing the game of baseball on the sandlot. It’s a far cry from the business-driven Big Leagues. For these young boys it’s still a game. I don’t watch as many games or listen to Marty and Steve call the Reds game as often (Joe has since retired), but I must say the seed planted 30 years ago is still inside and I plan on planting it in my 3-year old son. I purchased him his first real baseball glove this week, a black leather one just like mine. “I love my new mitten Daddy.” He doesn’t always catch the ball and it doesn’t always go exactly where he throws it. He doesn’t always hit it either; but he is learning it’s more about the fun to be had with 2 people in the backyard with a baseball. I think I’ll go over to the sandlot behind the house and water those seeds. I’ll tell them to keep playing the game and to never forget it’s more about the fun. I’ll tell them that 30 years from now, all they will be able to remember is the fun.
Monday, April 9, 2007
Easter a Day Late
The Easter story is one of life; the life of Jesus the Christ, the Savior of the world. Following His crucifixion and death, He was placed in a tomb. As He foretold, He rose from the grave, His life returning to Him. We read in Scripture of His appearance to many disciples and ultimately of His ascension back to the Father. There is no doubt, He was alive again. He was breathing. He was hungry and ate. He grew tired and slept. He was full of life. He is full of life.
The Easter story is one of life; the promise of abundant life on earth for every person who accepts the gift of life ushered by the life of Jesus; and of the eternal life in heaven reserved for the faithful. The Christian life is impossible without Jesus sacrificing His life. The blessing of the Christian life is that Christ lives in us and we share in His life, His death, and His resurrection.
"I am crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me."
Gal. 2:20
"...that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness which comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection of the dead." Phil. 3:8-10
"Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life."
Rom. 6:4
The story of Easter is of Jesus' resurrection from a physical death. However, without His birth, message, cross, death, and burial, His resurrection has no power. Without His birth, message, cross, death, and burial, my hope in resurrection holds no promise.
As a Christian, I remember the death of Jesus upon the cross of Calvary daily. I commemorate and celebrate His death every Sunday when I eat the bread and drink the cup. But because He lives, I live each day with the hope of my own resurrection to eternal life. To me, that is the story of Easter.
The Easter story is one of life; the promise of abundant life on earth for every person who accepts the gift of life ushered by the life of Jesus; and of the eternal life in heaven reserved for the faithful. The Christian life is impossible without Jesus sacrificing His life. The blessing of the Christian life is that Christ lives in us and we share in His life, His death, and His resurrection.
"I am crucified with Christ, it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave Himself for me."
Gal. 2:20
"...that I may gain Christ and be found in Him, not having my own righteousness which comes from the law, but that which is through faith in Christ, the righteousness which is from God by faith; that I may know Him and the power of His resurrection, and the fellowship of His sufferings, being conformed to His death, if, by any means, I may attain to the resurrection of the dead." Phil. 3:8-10
"Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in newness of life."
Rom. 6:4
The story of Easter is of Jesus' resurrection from a physical death. However, without His birth, message, cross, death, and burial, His resurrection has no power. Without His birth, message, cross, death, and burial, my hope in resurrection holds no promise.
As a Christian, I remember the death of Jesus upon the cross of Calvary daily. I commemorate and celebrate His death every Sunday when I eat the bread and drink the cup. But because He lives, I live each day with the hope of my own resurrection to eternal life. To me, that is the story of Easter.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
BASEBALL
Well, it's baseball time again and for now the Reds are in first place. Let's hope it lasts! They had a decent spring but they are the Reds. Life as we have known it will soon be over as both kids are going to play ball this spring. AC is playing softball and Levi is on a t-ball team. Hopefully we won't need to set up a tent at the ballfield. At least they are playing in the fields that border our neighborhood and are within walking distance.
Levi's team mother called last week and told him he is going to be wearing number 5. I told him that when I first started playing baseball I wore number 5 too. He asked me why and I told him that was Johnny Bench's number and he was my favorite player. Levi then asked if Johnny let me borrow his uniform.
I am looking forward to seeing them play but I refuse to allow any coach or parent rob the kids of the joy of playing the game. They are only 5-7 years old and shouldn't be expected to grasp the inner workings and strategies of the game. We have also made it clear that our priorities for baseball and softball fall somewhat down the list from God and family. We will not, I repeat, will not be missing Bible class or worship for a ballgame.
As I look back on my baseball career (short-lived and glamorous as it was) I recall having fun. The wins were great (Little League district champions, high school state runner-ups). I also recall the sting of defeat (I made the last out of my last high school game by swinging at a pitch that bounced 10 inches in front of the plate). When I look back, I think of the fun. I want my kids to play for the fun of it. The percentages are not in their favor to ever play baseball for a living. Their calling is higher, to be a servant of God. Not that they couldn't be a servant of God who also played baseball, but my goal is to create in them the desire of serving God by serving others.
I am thankful for my memories of baseball and for those who showed me how much fun it can be. I want to show others that same fun.
Levi's team mother called last week and told him he is going to be wearing number 5. I told him that when I first started playing baseball I wore number 5 too. He asked me why and I told him that was Johnny Bench's number and he was my favorite player. Levi then asked if Johnny let me borrow his uniform.
I am looking forward to seeing them play but I refuse to allow any coach or parent rob the kids of the joy of playing the game. They are only 5-7 years old and shouldn't be expected to grasp the inner workings and strategies of the game. We have also made it clear that our priorities for baseball and softball fall somewhat down the list from God and family. We will not, I repeat, will not be missing Bible class or worship for a ballgame.
As I look back on my baseball career (short-lived and glamorous as it was) I recall having fun. The wins were great (Little League district champions, high school state runner-ups). I also recall the sting of defeat (I made the last out of my last high school game by swinging at a pitch that bounced 10 inches in front of the plate). When I look back, I think of the fun. I want my kids to play for the fun of it. The percentages are not in their favor to ever play baseball for a living. Their calling is higher, to be a servant of God. Not that they couldn't be a servant of God who also played baseball, but my goal is to create in them the desire of serving God by serving others.
I am thankful for my memories of baseball and for those who showed me how much fun it can be. I want to show others that same fun.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)