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).