Wearing the Jersey

He was a walk-on, an athlete who wasn’t recruited, nor promised any kind of scholarship. Still, he possessed the talent that made the coaches want him on the team, so he joined the others with the full knowledge he may never play in a game.

It was a major accomplishment to make the team, something of which he, his parents, and his friends were proud. In a moment of inspiration and true friendship, his buddies ordered his jersey, complete with name and number. They would be the only fans in the stands with such jerseys, but that didn’t matter. In fact, it only made their jerseys more special, their friendship more inspirational.

When I heard about the friends buying the jerseys, I knew there was a brushstroke to be found. Within this very ordinary series of events, there was something divine. Yes, the athlete’s story spoke of courage, effort, and perseverance, but it was the friends who spoke to my heart most. To buy your buddy’s jersey and wear it proudly in the stands, speaks of true friendship, the kind that roots for someone even when he or she may never play in the game. None of that matters. It’s the friendship that does.

May we all have such friends. May we be such friends.

First Day of School

My hands fidgeted on the seat in front of me as I waited for the other students to get on the bus. With crispy pants, stiff new shoes, and backpack on its maiden voyage, I looked out the window wondering what the new school year would bring. Who would be my teachers? What would my schedule be like? What would I learn? What would I achieve? The questions of August were always the same.

Although, for me, school bus rides are a thing of the past, the excitement of this time of year remains. When I think about my life in education, I know one of the reasons I loved it so was because each year you got to start over. Whether as a student or teacher, you always get a chance to sharpen your pencils, arrange your desk, and start over. A new year offers the chance to build on what had gone well the year before and correct the things that didn’t.

If only life was the same.

Maybe it can be.

Maybe we, like the students who begin school this week, can approach our lives – our jobs, relationships, health, and spiritual lives - as if they begin anew today. Just thinking about it makes my heart beat quickly, and dreams start percolating. This could be a great new year. There are things to learn, friends to meet, and accomplishments to strive for. It’s time to climb on the bus. The lights are flashing!

Water in the Valleys

Give me views!” I said to the wrangle who would be our guide on the morning horseback ride. It was the same thing I’d said at the start of every ride during our trip to the dude ranch. From the top of the hills, you could see for miles. On our last ride, I noticed a cluster of green trees which stood in sharp contrast to the brown landscape everywhere else. The trees were not up high like where we were riding, but nestled in a valley. Clearly, there was water there. As “Bubba,” my horse, meandered his way down the hill toward the corral, I stared at the cluster of trees in the valley and thought about the balance I need to strike as I “ride” through life.

You see, I still LOVE views. I always have. They cause me to take deep breaths and be grateful for life. What I often forget is the need to return to the valleys. Valleys aren’t as open, nor are they as inspirational (maybe). But there’s water in the valleys. To go there is to go get a drink for your soul. It’s darker in the valleys, but you often find other folks there, many like-minded, or like-needed, souls dying of thirst. Just ask the mothers who have lost children. They meet each week in a parish library. Ask the three husbands struggling with their recent divorces, one cup of coffee at a time, at a local coffee shop. Or ask the girls huddled together in a bedroom on the Saturday night the “cool” classmates are having a sleep over to which they were not invited.

There are all kinds of valleys, and it takes work to enter them. The pristine hilltops, with their pink clouds above, are tempting, but the water’s found lower. After seventeen years of not drinking, I have chosen a new sponsor who is making me work the twelve-steps again. It’s not easy work, but when we met the other morning, I thought about the trees on the ride. Together we sat, talking about hard things, but I left as if I’d had a cool drink of water.

There’s water in the valleys. I need to drink it .