unlikely citizen of Bronco Country

My dad took me to see the Bronco Game on Sunday; I had never been before. I knew I would like it better in person than on t.v. (no idiotic commentators, for one) and it's always a sure bet that I'll enjoy a day alone with my dad. I remember one of my friends growing up heard him doing a big belly laugh in the other room and said "Your dad is just so . . . jolly. Like Santa." Here are a couple thoughts from the day:

Life should be a team sport

I was watching the sea of helmets lining the side of the field, each player bringing their own specialty to the team. No one yells at the punter for being a crappy quarterback. Some players get to play multiple positions. Then, while they're out there playing, other people are being their eyes and brain for them, and give them smart ideas in between plays. Finally, in case they're in danger of losing heart, a crowd of over 75,000 people will scream, stomp, and rumble in a desperate effort to will the energy of their belief into the hearts of the men on the field. I just kept thinking, life should be this way. To be able to be proud of your contribution and not discount it for not being identical to the guy next to you, to know that people are watching who see a bigger perspective than you and will lend you their wisdom. And yes, to have enough people telling you you're wonderful to make it through another day--that would be blissful, wouldn't it?

There is a season, turn, turn, turn

I talked extensively to my dad on the way to the game about what we're doing and thinking on the church front. He told me a story of one of my favorite pastors growing up, Lane Hardy (he married Justin and me). Dad said that one day Lane said something like, "You know, I think there are times in life when God gives you a tap on the shoulder and says, 'Time to step up and serve'. But I think there are many times when God wants you to rest and receive. I've known ministers who had a time when they left leading a church and just joined one for a while. They may have taught a class or two, but that was it. I don't think we were ever intended to not have breaks."

That's so different from anything I've heard recently; it was kind of affirming. My desire to achieve, perform, build is dissipating and slowly being replaced by a desire to tend to ordinary things, as jen lemen would say. Raising my kids, knitting, being an amazing friend/sister/daughter and writing. I guess writing seems to me like a way to share differently with others--instead of sharing my efficiency or skills, it's more directly sharing myself. To share my heart, I have to be in touch with it myself. I must say, though, that leaving the other things behind does occur at times like a small death, and I hope I'm not killing off something vital.