It's Baseball Time

Opening week of spring baseball has officially begun. I guess you could say I have a love-hate relationship with baseball.

Carson is on the Warriors. He is with a lot of new boys, but some that he has played with in years past.  

Colby is on the Mustangs with a group of boys he has been with (most of them) for several years

Cooper is on the Rockies 

On one hand, I absolutely LOVE it. Love watching my boys play. Love the relationships I have made over the years with those we play with. Love the smell of the grill at the concession stand and the way the white lines are so perfectly formed on the dirt with the green grass outlining the outfield. I just love the game and the lessons that reach farther than the rules of baseball, and into the realm of day to day life. I love how each individual player has a particular moment to "shine," yet it is a team effort that carries the weight of how successful a season is.

Carson and Cooper (this night Coop had his last indoor soccer game at the same time Carson had his opening game) 

Carson with his buddy Addy Charest

Colby and Cooper before their games

The part of baseball I am struggling with, comes with longing for the one who LOVED this game with every fiber of who he was. Rod Cook was most passionate about a few things in his life on earth. His love for the Lord, his family, his friends, Alabama Football, beach sunsets, golf, and coaching baseball! I am so proud to watch the boys play the game their daddy loved, but it also rips my heart out, because he should be a part of this. The boys should be sharing in this passion with their dad. Instead, they have to settle for a frazzled mom, who is half-heartedly in it, because it just hurts too much. So, I continue to pray for strength and lots of grace!

 

Instead of being secondary support in the dugout from time to time, basically showing up for games, and worrying about getting uniforms washed in time, I am running like a mad woman, trying to figure out how I'm going to get in at least part of one of their games and still make it to another one. Who will I get to pick this one up for practice or bring that one home from a game? It's become a juggling act that never feels quite sufficient. It is only by the generosity of many who help me pull it off, that it is even doable. 

So, last year during this week, Rod was honored at opening ceremonies with a field named for him. It's hard to believe that was a year ago. This year, we scrambled, to get everyone where they needed to be and I teeter tottered between two fields, as I walked past the very field named to honor the boys' dad just last year during this same week. It is still surreal. I had to stop, take a deep breath, and choke back tears at the reality of it. 

I still picture him standing there on the field in his uniform, clip board in hand, spitting sunflower seeds. Intense as ever, yet smiling from ear to ear just ready to teach a kid something that they didn't already know about baseball. I see it as vividly as ever, and it still takes my breath away. Then, I see the sign with his name and I am quickly knocked back into the harshness of what is. 

So, we press on, and we will soak in another season of baseball...and we will choose thankfulness, even when so much is missing in this game we love. We do it for two reasons. 1.) Because it is what God tells us to do. (I Thessalonians 5:18- "Give thanks in ALL circumstances"), and 2.) There is not a doubt in my mind that it is exactly what Rod Cook would tell us to do and would expect us to do.

Take me out to the ballgame!