- What do you mean school’s not cancelled?
- I can get ready in 10 minutes.
- But it will actually take me 70 minutes because I’ll need to stand in the middle of my room and stare for a while.
- I’ll just wear my Avengers t-shirt.
- The best YouTube videos are the ones where people crash or fall.
- The highest loyalty is to the band of brothers. The code is uncomplicated – good is good, bad is bad, we have each other’s back and take one for the team. Easy.
- Aside from that, everything else is fairly mellow and not urgent.
- Except don’t talk to me while I am watching football.
- Girls? They are basically a pleasant mystery. And they cry a lot. Just hug them and eventually they stop.
- What makes me cry? The clip of Auburn winning the Iron Bowl. It never gets old.
- As long as there is a loaf or two of French bread around, I’m good.
- Yoohoos are the champagne of canned beverages.
- Adults make way too big a deal of things. Just say, “Clean it up!” and move on. This isn’t a character issue.
- Away games are awesome!
- And for my birthday they stuck my head in the toilet and flushed and I fought so hard we broke the door. It was great!
- Of course I forgot it was Freestyle Friday. I try not to think in the morning.
- About to start my Trig, just checking ESPN. The only one worse than me at Fantasy Football is Randy Hogue and that’s because he lost his password and can’t play.
- I’m not cold.
- Bye, Mom. Love you.
We drove through Cincinnati for the first time two weeks ago. Around a deep curve on I75 north, boom, there it was, a lovely city across the Ohio River. It kind of sneaks up on you coming from that direction. So because we had so recently waved to the Bengal’s stadium from our north-bound CRV, we watched the Bengals/Steelers game Saturday with a tad more interest than we normally would have. And then a tad more.
I’ve been thinking about Vontaze Burfict ever since.
First, a word to his mother. A mother’s worst nightmare is for the whole world to be mad at her child. I think that might kill me. So my first thought is for you, Vontaze’s mother. There is a place to take the sorrow in your heart when you see repeated evidence of the rage in his. You know the reasons for his rage. You lived them. Take your sorrow and your son’s rage to Jesus. Jesus wants you. And He wants Vontaze too. And only He can protect you from the world’s razor-sharp condemnation. Anyway, you’ve got a friend in me, to quote the song.
Second, they don’t all give in to rage. Obviously. And those who do don’t have to stay there. My prayer is that someday Vontaze will be featured in a lengthy Sports Illustrated article recounting how his actions Saturday weren’t just gamechangers for a Bengal’s loss, but far more important (No, Cincinnati, your loss is not as important as a man’s soul) were gamechangers for his life’s gain. I hope someone – Tom, you up to this? – will sit with him as long as it takes and tell him that he has a heavenly father who loves him so much, unlike his earthly one, and that the hatred he is hearing from the world is a beckoning from the One who knows how that feels. With one difference. That One was perfect. He did nothing to earn the hatred. The other is Burfict. And he did.
Perhaps someone has told him that. A grandmother? A coach? A team chaplain? Well, he didn’t hear it, so I will tell him again.
Vontaze, are you listening? The videos of all your hits are hard to watch. They make us angry because they ruin sports and ruin people. But I can’t hate you because when I watch your clips, I see me – someone in desperate need of grace. I see Burfict who needs Perfect. I need Perfect too, and when He offered himself to me at my fork in the road, all I did was say yes. That’s it. So if you can soften for one minute, the One who loves your soul stands ready to declare you perfect and then to spend a lifetime making you a new man. Gamechanged.
* “Brrrrr, y’all!” was the theme, though I know, I know, 30 isn’t cold.
* Mom delivered a finished quilt to an inspiring woman 87 years young who lives in an antique dealer’s dream home with twenty parakeets and a picture of herself aged 40 that reminds me that old people are just wrinkled young people. Her recent post-hip replacement note to herself reads: “Get up, girl! Show me what you’ve got!” How can you not admire that?
* Costco debauch. Thousands of people buying like Christmas didn’t just happen.
* Lessons in generosity from my brother and sister-in-law. They give for the joy of giving, not to impress and not for thanks.
* Pistons vs. T’wolves at the Palace. Oh yeah. I feel straight savage typing that (see translation below). Pre-game video on jumbotron hypes the underdog status – “Detroit isn’t pretty, but we’re here to stay,” and so on – and doggone if it doesn’t work. Moist-eyed, I fist bump the mayor back and proceed to watch Drummond and Co defang the ‘Wolves. My little mother jukes to the evocative beat and I think, “OK, I get it; this is do-able.”
* We won’t mention that other New Year’s Eve game because I am too classy to gloat.
* Early AM departure in the snow says, no, this isn’t do-able after all. Get me south and quick. Happy New Yearing our way 700 miles straight south, the temp only climbs 10 degrees. I feel cheated. Alabama hasn’t kept its part of the bargain. But we pull in to 1736 Woodland St and the pecan tree is still standing, the Christmas Day leak hasn’t leaked anymore, the accumulated mail hasn’t been delivered yet, and the new Sherlock starts in an hour.
* Prayers at the dinner table over eggs and bacon, Will suggests big to little, so we pray for our world, our country, our church, our family and we tell the Lord we trust Him and ask Him to make us worthy of His name this year.
* “The one who offers thanksgiving as his sacrifice glorifies me; to one who orders his way rightly I will show the salvation of God!” Psalm 50:23
Happy New Year!
“straight savage” – hardcore, awesome, brutal, cool