Football has become a part of our lives again. Not being much of a sports family, that alone is a big deal. Traveling to town four times a week for practices and games makes it a bigger deal. Sitting at the edge of the practice field, and even before then, sitting behind the steering wheel in the mini-van, causes new waves of panic attacks. I still look out on the field and expect to see Trent. Then I look to see Cole, hoping he's not under a bunch of seventh and eighth grade boys on the bottom of a tackle pile.
"A lot of the things that we ask you to do won't make any sense right now. But trust us. Everything we ask you to do has a purpose." What sound advice from a middle school football coach!
I should have expected to see the hand of God at that back field, but I guess I was looking the wrong way again. He still pops up, capably doing His work without my assistance, on and off the field.
I am reminded that Jesus set His face as flint towards Jerusalem, towards the waiting cross, all for the joy set before Him, His longing for glory greater than His longing for comfort and ease. Here we go...
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