Monday, January 25, 2016

January 25 – “Throwing like a girl”

I actually watched some football games yesterday.  It has been a long time.  The later start helped a lot, since we had a quarterly discernment meeting scheduled.  We didn’t get home until almost three o’clock.  And we had Cailyn for the day.  And she invited Kiara over to play.  We stopped by Whataburger for a gourmet lunch on the way home.  Fine Texas cuisine, you know.  The kids like the gravy that comes with the chicken strips.  Sorry, other establishments that don’t serve chicken strips.  You probably won’t be seeing much of our grandkids any time soon for any of their away-from-home fine dining experiences.  Gotta have the chicken strips. 

We finally made it back to the house and the two girls disappeared into Whatever Little Girls Do Together Land.  I heard them talking – a lot – but what they said made little sense to my limited male expertise, so what else was I to do?  I turned to the Denver Broncos for respite.  Even tried out a new gadget someone at church gave me.  It is one of those electrode thingies that stimulates the tight muscles like a massage.  Interesting feel, I must say.  I think it helped, too.  I also must say, though, that there is no way it will replace an actual massage.  Nothing like touch to stimulate healing. 

After Kiara left Cailyn and I got down to the serious business of breaking in her brand new softball glove.  She signed up to play for the first time, so we had to see what kind of potential she might have.  Right up front I have to say she is a quick study.  She understood the basic mechanics involved in not throwing like a girl (opposite foot from throwing hand takes the step toward your target).  And when she remembered to look at where she wanted the ball to go, she was actually really good.  She even threw some underhand (as in fast pitch), and the tosses were fairly accurate.  All was going well until …

That’s when it happened.  It had to happen sooner or later.  Might as well get it over with now.  We were working on moving the glove so that the ball could hit in it.  It’s one of those softball/baseball skills that sounds so simple, but it just takes so much hand/eye coordination.  Perhaps just a bit more than a just-starting-out seven year old who has never done it before can handle.  Before she knew it, the ball snuck its way past her best efforts to move the glove and found its way right into her bottom lip.  Pow.  Yes, she cried.  Yes, DadDad’s heart melted as she leapt in to my arms.  I did my best to encourage her.  I sure didn’t want this to be her first and last attempt at softball before she even had a chance to try the game itself.  We made our way inside to let Nurse Nana take a look at it and to get some ice on it.  And just as she took the cool, wet paper towel out of Nana’s hand to “do it myself,” who should walk in but good ol’ Mommy.  The tears did their best to re-emerge.  I mean, come on.  You can’t let Mom miss out on a tender moment like that, can you?  One big hug and a kiss or two later, though, and the pain was under control.  The bleeding had stopped.  The swelling was gone.  And Cailyn?  “Come on, DadDad, let’s play some more catch.”  That’s my girl.  Back in the saddle. 

1 John 1:6-7 says, “If we claim to have fellowship with him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth.  But if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus, his Son, purifies us from all sin.”


Father, thank you for Cailyn’s desire to try and try again.  Help her to maintain that spirit from now on … and not just in sports.  Amen.

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