There's no crying in football!

There are some things in life that are ridiculous.  The price of cereal, the verification necessary to get a library card, the calories in triple chocolate fudge cake, and maybe even people who cry watching football. 

Today marks the third home husky football game that I have had to miss in the past 12 years.  As I sat in my dorm room, watching the game stream through my computer, listening to the fans cheer, getting text messages from my parents who were at the game, I began to cry.  I’m not sure if I have ever felt so ridiculous in my life.  Who cries over football?!  Apparently I do. 

All of a sudden I remembered being 5 years old, on my dad’s shoulders, walking through a stadium filled with excitement and purple.  I remembered how it feels when the crowd goes crazy when the Huskies hold the opponents on 4th and short.  I remembered walking through campus with my dad, talking pregame strategy.  I remembered waking up early on Sunday mornings to read all the articles about the previous days’ victory.  I remembered six-hour car rides from our house in Corvallis to the games in Seattle. 

I remembered spending time with my dad.  I remembered bonding with my dad. 

The reason I cried was because I knew what I was missing.  I was missing that time with my dad that I have grown to love.  I hated knowing my dad was there in our seats and I was hours away. 

Like the time I spend with my dad in Husky Stadium, my time with God helps me bond with my other Father.   God waits for us everyday.  He longs for us to meet him.  But I have never cried over the times I have neglected to spend time with God.  I never thought about what I was missing.  I never thought of my Father waiting for me. 

Today I realized that I took each one of those football games for granted.  How blessed am I to have the opportunity to go to each of those games?  How blessed am I that those games and the car rides to them have equated to hours upon hours of time spent with my dad? 

I take time with God for granted.  He is always there to meet with me, but I seem to find every excuse not to meet with him.  I’ll drive four hours from Salem to see a football game, but I can’t seem to find the time in a day to meet with my Father.  The thought of my selfishness makes me cry.   

He is waiting. 

“Evening, morning, and noon I cry out in distress, and he hears my voice” (Psalm 55:17).

When the power chair doesn't move, move on.

I don’t think I can count the number of times kids have walked into the grocery store, caught a glimpse of the power chairs waiting directly inside the doors, grinned from ear to ear, and then jumped on for a joy ride. Unfortunately, the power chairs provide little entertainment because in order to operate, there needs to be certain amount of weight present on the chair. Most kids don’t fulfill this weight requirement. The reason for this? Apparently the power chair manufactures did not think children could properly operate said power chairs. I have to believe their assumptions are correct. For the sake of our displays of breakable bottles of organic apple juice, it would be better if juveniles were not taking joy rides on motorized machinery around our less than spacious store premises.

Sometimes I see a power chair, get excited, and hop on for a joy ride. In other words, I see a possibility or have an idea that I want to pursue. But God has different plans, He’s put a minimum weight on the “power chair” that I don’t quite meet. He knows I cannot properly operate certain power chairs and prevents me from taking joy rides that would have a negative impact on my or others’ lives.

Just as the excited kids leave the unmoved power chair disappointed, I walk away from an unfulfilled possibility with aggravation, cynicism, or even anger. We are so nearsighted that we fail to see why the power chair doesn’t move. In reality, we will never know what would have happened if the power chair moved. Maybe the apple cider display would have come crashing down, maybe some little old lady would have been run over, maybe the pyramid of apples would have rolled themselves all over the produce department. But do we really need to know the “what if?” Sometimes it’s just good enough to know that God knows best.

The child in us doesn’t care in that moment about the potential disasters that could follow our joy ride. When failed opportunities pass by, we rarely consider the idea that maybe it was in our best interest.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11).

There is nothing in our lives that is not part of the Lord’s will. He knows what is best for us and which power chairs we cannot handle.

Rather than throwing a fit, skulking around, and missing out on other potential opportunities, it’s best to move on with the knowledge that God knows best. Not all the power chairs we encounter will bring us joy, but the fact that God cares enough to look out for our best interest is enough to keep me going.

When the power chair doesn’t move, move on.