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.
No comments:
Post a Comment