Fences
I ran into a fence at a dead run today. It was a metal chain link fence. It hurt.
Why, you ask, did I happen to run into a fence? Well, I play softball, and I was playing third. Somebody hit it towards the dugout, and I charged to catch the thing. Yes, I caught it...thank goodness. I just didn't realize how close I was to the fence, and I went face-first into the fence. Parts of my face are puffy, but I think it would take running into a brick fence before I got a bruise. Seriously, my body does so well to avoid blemishes...I hardly have any scars, and only once in a blue moon do I ever bruise. All I got was a cut on my shin, a little bump under my eye and some high fives afterwards. Oh, and some twisted glasses that thankfully came back together.
It was made all the better by the fact that a couple of my friends were there to cheer me on, and got to see the whole thing happen. Validation is always pretty good to get. Unfortunately, we lost in the end, giving up a couple runs too many in one bad inning.
Encouraging words are not my gift. I may be verbose, but most of the time I feel like it's just words...word vomit. Like tonight, for example. I said some particularly disparaging comments to a good friend after a particularly bitter loss on the field, then had to realize on the car ride home (with some nudging from the Holy Spirit) that what I had to say was vitriolic and despicable. Yes, I had to apologize. I even botched that, as I had the hardest time getting out "I'm sorry, I was wrong."
*sigh*
God has forgiven me, my friend who shall remain anonymous forgave me, and...maybe someday I'll learn to measure my words by the true love of Jesus Christ. I've had difficulty with words for a long time...I remember one time when we were building my parent's house back in Montana on Springhill Road when I was maybe 12 years old. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was an annoying little brat who couldn't not touch and leave well enough alone. I, being homeschooled and nothing to do, followed one of the workers around the house that my dad was building all the time, handling his equipment and generally getting on his nerves. Now, this man is a Christian, but is a little quirky. He just up and leaves the job site one night, taking all of his equipment with him. Now, I have no idea this is coming, but when we track him down, he blames me and my brother's sticky fingers and flapping gums on his decision to leave.
Now, I know that I was just a kid, but I was flabbergasted that what I had to say actually drove this man off. My dad suggested (in pretty strong terms) that I had better start learning to think before I talk, and I really tried to take that lesson to heart. By the way, I've seen the man more than once, and he's still an oddball who says some pretty abrasive things. Go figure. On a personal level, though, I had a hard time trying to engage adults for the longest time, because I was afraid that what I had to say might annoy the crap out of them. Not the most logical thinking, but in my mind it made perfect sense just to listen.
Of course, that's how they used to do it. "Don't speak unless spoken to" was the rule, not the exception. Perhaps there's some truth to that, as it might teach people to listen before making up their minds, or actually figuring out what someone's trying to say. Kids don't have very much respect for any authority figure, and it's kind of a romanticized notion that it's the heroic thing to ignore your parents and mouth off all elders. Now, I'm not suggesting we try and overhaul the system, but I think there is something to be said for listening with 2 ears and speaking with 1 mouth, in the proportion set forth by God.
I went caving this weekend. Up by Mt. St. Helens there is a laval tube that is around 12,000 feet long, and full of interesting things to explore. It's in pitch darkness, and you use a flash light or headlamp to find your way down this path strewn with boulders. I really enjoyed the hike, as it gave me a better sense of how much I appreciated light, and how interesting things can be underground. I'm tired now, so I will continue my discourse on a later date. Until Later,
Why, you ask, did I happen to run into a fence? Well, I play softball, and I was playing third. Somebody hit it towards the dugout, and I charged to catch the thing. Yes, I caught it...thank goodness. I just didn't realize how close I was to the fence, and I went face-first into the fence. Parts of my face are puffy, but I think it would take running into a brick fence before I got a bruise. Seriously, my body does so well to avoid blemishes...I hardly have any scars, and only once in a blue moon do I ever bruise. All I got was a cut on my shin, a little bump under my eye and some high fives afterwards. Oh, and some twisted glasses that thankfully came back together.
It was made all the better by the fact that a couple of my friends were there to cheer me on, and got to see the whole thing happen. Validation is always pretty good to get. Unfortunately, we lost in the end, giving up a couple runs too many in one bad inning.
Encouraging words are not my gift. I may be verbose, but most of the time I feel like it's just words...word vomit. Like tonight, for example. I said some particularly disparaging comments to a good friend after a particularly bitter loss on the field, then had to realize on the car ride home (with some nudging from the Holy Spirit) that what I had to say was vitriolic and despicable. Yes, I had to apologize. I even botched that, as I had the hardest time getting out "I'm sorry, I was wrong."
*sigh*
God has forgiven me, my friend who shall remain anonymous forgave me, and...maybe someday I'll learn to measure my words by the true love of Jesus Christ. I've had difficulty with words for a long time...I remember one time when we were building my parent's house back in Montana on Springhill Road when I was maybe 12 years old. I didn't realize it at the time, but I was an annoying little brat who couldn't not touch and leave well enough alone. I, being homeschooled and nothing to do, followed one of the workers around the house that my dad was building all the time, handling his equipment and generally getting on his nerves. Now, this man is a Christian, but is a little quirky. He just up and leaves the job site one night, taking all of his equipment with him. Now, I have no idea this is coming, but when we track him down, he blames me and my brother's sticky fingers and flapping gums on his decision to leave.
Now, I know that I was just a kid, but I was flabbergasted that what I had to say actually drove this man off. My dad suggested (in pretty strong terms) that I had better start learning to think before I talk, and I really tried to take that lesson to heart. By the way, I've seen the man more than once, and he's still an oddball who says some pretty abrasive things. Go figure. On a personal level, though, I had a hard time trying to engage adults for the longest time, because I was afraid that what I had to say might annoy the crap out of them. Not the most logical thinking, but in my mind it made perfect sense just to listen.
Of course, that's how they used to do it. "Don't speak unless spoken to" was the rule, not the exception. Perhaps there's some truth to that, as it might teach people to listen before making up their minds, or actually figuring out what someone's trying to say. Kids don't have very much respect for any authority figure, and it's kind of a romanticized notion that it's the heroic thing to ignore your parents and mouth off all elders. Now, I'm not suggesting we try and overhaul the system, but I think there is something to be said for listening with 2 ears and speaking with 1 mouth, in the proportion set forth by God.
I went caving this weekend. Up by Mt. St. Helens there is a laval tube that is around 12,000 feet long, and full of interesting things to explore. It's in pitch darkness, and you use a flash light or headlamp to find your way down this path strewn with boulders. I really enjoyed the hike, as it gave me a better sense of how much I appreciated light, and how interesting things can be underground. I'm tired now, so I will continue my discourse on a later date. Until Later,