Makin' my daddy proud

Last Sunday at church one of the elders of the church tapped me on the shoulder in the noisy lobby and said, "We're starting a church softball team. You're athletic. I signed you up!"

I smiled, politely laughed and, did nothing. Except maybe gloat at the compliment. When someone puts confidence behind your abilities, encourages you to try something out of your norm and believes in you, makes it pretty easy to give it a strong consideration. Sometimes it leads to action. So, a week later I got an email from the 'coach' announcing our first practice will be Monday night, just bring a glove. So I did.

I have maybe played softball 3 times at camp, 1-pitch softball at family camp. Prior to that... when I was 16 and playing for the Bowmansville Bobcats. Do the math... that's about 15 years ago. Gulp. I think my glove is storing up nostalgia in my parents garage. I grabbed a (leftie, rightie, which hand does the glove go on - left 'cause I throw with the right. Check) from camp's public athletic gear box. It had a rip in it.

Bowmansville Wildcats circa 1994. Oh my. Big glasses. Big frizz hair. Caps we never wore but had to be on the team photo (?). Dad didn't coach this team. His high accolades from coaching the champion little league team of my brothers - The Royals, weren't applied to softball until the next age category, the Bobcats.

I arrive at the field - in the heart of Perry County. Something about church softball feels right in PC. :) With an ounce of fake confidence I stroll out to the motley crew bundled up on this chilly windy March day. Ask to join people warming up. Others were making comments of how they'll feel sore tomorrow and while I fear the same thing, I pretend like its a non-issue for me. It's been a loooong time since I've played catch. A guy throw's the ball to me and it hits right where the rip (i.e. no padding) is and I think ouch I forgot that's how it stung when Kirby would whip balls at me.

No one knew what was going on but we all migrated to various parts of the field and someone asked who wants to bat first? No way! Do I remember how to do that? My last swing was during homerun derby on Wii and that was no pretty sight. Not going to the infield either. I like my shins and in soccer at least I wear shin pads. Flashbacks of my 3rd base shin bruises instill fear in me. I'll stick to the outfield, show off that I can run like the wind and chase down fly balls. Ha. The first 3 or so batters swing and swing and swing and can't hit the ball. Oh boy, gonna be a long night standing here feeling awkward. Shoot I don't know if I can make contact between bat & ball.

Eventually I repeat to myself enough times that batting is simple - just watch the ball hit the bat, it's all about eye contact. I go in to get in line to bat. First pitch, a little contact and slow grounder to third. Second pitch was low but I was determined to swing at everything and not waste anyone's time. Foul hit into the backstop. And THEN THE Athletic girl started to connect. Oh yeah baby! Mind you, I was swinging at everything and not terribly fast but I think I peppered the area around the short stop, 3rd, just over their heads, line drive a time or two and a few that looked good. After one to the outfield someone called 'homerun'. I said at least a double. Best part - the 'coach' who was acting as catcher to best scout his troops was joined by the other leader and said 'this girl can hit.' YES. Booyah. I connected 2-3 more times and I was done. Sooo relieved that I made contact. Got a comment out of the coach's mouth. Success.

I was not planning to play. Its a summer league. Um, I work at a summer camp. Not conducive. Buuuut, I am curious to see what how I can help. Being in my 30's its not so fun to feel like I'm having to tryout for something. But this was nothing compared to the fail that was Inferno semi-pro women's soccer. We'll see.

Best part of the whole evening though was calling my daddy on my drive home and letting him know that all the hours he poured into me teaching me how not to throw like a girl, pitching to me in the front yard (we're talking a 5 gallon bucket full) and coaching tween girls softball had made this moment possible. Mad props to my daddy. He may not be a great communicator but I know he loves me and time investment means a lot to me and he showed it through giving me softball. yes, softball, which I claim as my first (not best) sport.Crud picture but I am the one in the white shirt, blue knickers on the right. My dads all stars from the Bobcats ~ 1996.

Still enjoying making my daddy proud. :)

is it ok to bring this up?

Do I really want to post this article? It's not mine. I don't talk about this topic. Never these emotions with such openness. And yet, as I read it I thought... ' yup. That's what I'm (not) saying'. Those who are not on this side of it, don't judge. You don't understand. Yes, give support and encouragement and insight from your side, your experience, your knowledge. But in being honest about thoughts, struggles and challenges may be where I, and those rare types like me - virgins in a sex-oriented society, find the strength to resist the pressures and temptations.

It is out of God's grace only that I am where and who I am today. Not by my own strength and resolve. Fear more than faith has played a role in resistance. Thankfulness also remains an encouragement. This isn't necessarily to point fingers at anyone else's situation or experience but simply a chance to be real. I am not sure that one life is better than another. It is probably more likely that the baggage to deal with feels different but all are tools that God can use to teach us about his heart, his plan, his desire for our lives and love.

http://goodwomenproject.com/sex/the-church-needs-a-different-view-of-sex-singleness?newsletter_uid=1736&newsletter_date=02%2F03%2F12

The Church Needs A Different View Of Sex & Singleness

Editor’s Note: In May 2010, Leigh Kramer intentionally uprooted her life in the Chicago suburbs by moving to Nashville in an effort to live more dependently on God. She writes about life in the South, what God has been teaching her, and her ongoing quest for the perfect fried pickle. She is currently writing her first novel. You can follow her adventures on Twitter and her blog LeighKramer.com. – Lauren

I wish I was the kind of person that could get laid.

It’s been one of those weeks. I’m overloaded with emotions about several situations and I’m in need of release. And let’s be honest: exercise or a good cry is not going to cut it.

I rarely talk about sex in such stark terms. In fact, any discussion of sex, for me, is purely hypothetical.

You see, I am a rare breed. Some might even say an endangered species. I’m a 31-year-old virgin.

Rest easy. I’m not dating anyone right now, nor am I going to bed with the next guy I encounter. I’m committed to seeing my virginity through to marriage or death. Whichever comes first.

I can’t say I’m happy to be a virgin. I mean, I’m happy that I’ve been obedient, but trust me that there was a period in my life when it was more God’s protection than my will alone.

I’m not ashamed of my virgin status, but I don’t broadcast either. Most people assume that I have had sex because that is true of most women in their 30′s. Abstinence, chastity, whatever you want to call it, is no longer the norm.

I honestly never thought I’d still be single at this point in my life. I can’t help but wonder if I would have made the same choices had I known what lay ahead.

Does that shock you? It shocks me a little. We live in an age where premarital sex is accepted and often expected. It’s difficult to be countercultural when it comes to sex. There are even churches that don’t take a hard line on the matter.

Grace and forgiveness are extended to those who had premarital sex – and rightly so. Secondary virginity is an option. On the other hand, I’ve had friends that purposely had sex knowing they’d ask for forgiveness later.

Then there’s me. I love finding other ‘older’ virgins. Solidarity and all that. But also because I want to know why they waited and continue to wait. What do they do on the hard days?

Because hard days, or weeks, happen. Sex is best reserved for marriage but it’s hard being the odd woman out. I fervently hope I’ll be able to experience sex in the context of marriage someday. Now is the time to do the work of being faithful so that when I am in a relationship, regardless of my boyfriend’s sexual history, I will not falter.

I’m not alone in this. The church must start having a different conversation about sex and singleness. Here are a few suggestions of what I’d like to see.

1. Explore the framework of chastity.
Telling people to save sex for marriage is not enough when marriage isn’t a guarantee. Chastity is a way of life, looking at our physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual health. It’s not solely focused on the physical act of sex. We need to get away from “how far is too far” and move toward respecting ourselves (and our partners) as men and women made in the image of Christ.

2. Recognize that singles are sexual beings too.
What does this look like within the context of church? How can you be someone who is sexual without acting out sexually? For me, it’s appreciating who I am as a woman. I don’t need a man to affirm my femaleness, though it’s nice when it happens! I’m mostly comfortable with my body, but more importantly, I’m comfortable with who God created me to be.

3. Don’t teach that sex is a reward.
First, it’s not the best way to motivate someone toward obedience. This might also explain why many Christians marry young, only to divorce later. Marriage is about more than sex. Second, what message does that send to those who are obedient but don’t receive the ‘reward’? Have I somehow been a bad virgin? I don’t worship a God who would punish people in this way.

4. Don’t elevate marriage over singleness (or vice-versa).
The amount of people who are single, divorced, or widowed is roughly equal to those who are married in most congregations. Yet sermons tend to be directed toward those who are married and parenting. This leaves a good portion of the congregation feeling left out – and these are the unattached who continue to go to church. Many simply choose not to go anymore. We all have much to learn from each other, no matter what our stage of life.

5. Recognize that those practicing abstinence don’t have super-human self-control.
I’m not a better Christian because I’m still a virgin. I do have moments of weakness and that’s when I need accountability and support more than ever. We need people to speak into our lives – and not just about our attitude toward sex. Married folks, please support the single people in your life. Let them be a part of your family gatherings but also schedule one-on-one time as well. Single folks, identify the people in the trenches with you and continue to build those relationships. Having support in place now means you’re more likely to be ready when temptation hits.

What else would you add to this list?

Too good not to share

This was too good not to share.

It is from the CEO/President of 3CA (Christian Camping & Conference Association) Gregg Hunter. He's a really cool guy... I've met him and lost soundly to him on the Brain Show which by the way was totally rigged but I still helped myself lose. :)

Peace – Even When There’s No Coffee by cccablog

Last week I took my first “Focus Day” since joining CCCA more than two years ago. I had been advised to do this by a couple camp/conference leaders, and had been craving the time to get away by myself, spend time with God, dream with Him about the future, ask for His guidance on current challenges and evaluate some of the opportunities that lie ahead for CCCA.

The day, which I had scheduled months before, turned out to be one of those absolutely gorgeous Colorado winter days that make me think of heaven. I went to the Broadmoor Hotel, dropped off my briefcase in a comfortable lounge with a roaring fireplace and began my walking prayer time around the lake. The temperature was near 50 degrees at 8:30 in the morning, yet it seemed that I had the whole property to myself. In fact, as I rounded the lake, I only passed one other person.

I stopped at the first tee box on the Ross Golf Course, which is a stone’s throw from the lake. As I looked up at the mountains and sky, then around at the golf course, I prayed, “Lord, I am not even worthy to stand here in your presence. I am clearly the ugliest thing on the landscape right now.” And again I thought of heaven and why I will fall on my face in the glory of His presence one day.

I was so content to just stand there and drink in the sunshine and scenery. I didn’t care about the time, and I had no set schedule - I was simply there to enjoy God’s presence and His creation for those moments. Then the clock on the mountain above the lake began to chime. But rather than rushing me from my reverie, the sound called me to stay still and listen. I heard every note of those rich, strong bells, and only wished that they could continue to ring so I could stand and listen even longer.

Then God provided a contrast.

I went to the Broadmoor coffee shop. As I walked in, the staff member from the adjacent gift shop said, “I’m sorry. The barista had to step out to run a quick errand. I’m sure she’ll be back in just a minute.” I noticed another customer standing at the coffee counter, a stern look on her face. I walked to the magazine rack and picked up a magazine with Aaron Rodgers on the cover and began to read the predictions for who would win the Super Bowl this year. (The expert had chosen the final two AFC teams correctly, but had missed both teams in the NFC championship game.)

I overheard the customer say to the gift store staffer: “This is ridiculous. How could this happen?”

“I’m so sorry, ma’am. She ran out of here pretty quickly. I think it was rather an emergency.”

“Well, this is just wrong. And somebody needs to know about it.” Then the customer stormed out of the shop and headed toward the front desk.

Less than 30 seconds later, the barista returned, and asked the gift store staffer if everything was all right. “Well, this guest needs to be served,” she said, waving toward me and avoiding the story of the angry customer altogether.

As I stepped to the counter, I saw the angry woman walk briskly past the coffee shop and out the door, looking more perturbed than before.

I ordered a roll and a coffee, and when I attempted to pay, the barista said, “This one is courtesy of me, for making you wait.”

I thanked her and left.

As I returned to my secluded fireside lounge, I realized that the impatient woman had missed out on receiving whatever she would have ordered, for free, and instead opted to run to the front desk and vent. In the time it took to lodge the complaint, she could have left the building with a free coffee and cinnamon roll. (I love cinnamon rolls!)

I also thought of how many times I’ve been in that woman’s place. Thinking of what I want, incredulous that the people who were here to serve me had dropped the ball, cost me time, failed to meet my expectations. On this day, when taking my time was a good part of the agenda, I refused to get upset. And I was rewarded. The angry woman left empty handed and caffeine-free. I pitied the next person on her calendar.

I don’t want to be her. Ever again.

I want my life, my attitude, my countenance to reflect the peace that passes understanding. I want to demonstrate to my family and my colleagues a grace that refuses to give in to the irritation of the unmet expectation.

By the way, I caught a snippet of the barista’s comment to the gift shop employee, “It was my son. He had an accident in his car and didn’t know what to do…”

Seems like that was more important than an angry woman’s cup of coffee – and even my cinnamon roll.

cccablog | January 26, 2012 at 11:02 am