Saturday, March 21, 2015

The Power of Friendship

This is Taylor.  He was a member of my first class at Harrisburg (although I did not have the privilege of teaching him).  His mom is my best friend.  

These two facts have led to an obsession with high school basketball.  Taylor and his team, the Hanson Beavers, are playing for the State B Championship tonight.  I know no other young man on the Beaver team.  Just Taylor.  Still, I found myself cheering and holding back tears watching them play last night.  As excited for other young men in Beaver blue as I am for Taylor.

Why?  Why am I nervous for a bunch of boys I do not even know?  Why am I in tears, my heart spilling over with pride in how these boys conduct themselves?  It all seems silly, the workings of an overly emotional girl.

The power of friendship.  Sarah is important to me so Taylor is important to me.  I have shared in his growing up for the past five years.  I have prayed for, hoped for, and seen God's guidance on his life.  Sarah and I have walked through a tough boss, job changes, babies, surgeries, Bible study, college choices, heartbreak, and more.

The power of friendship makes these games important to me.  Even though I can't be there, I cheer and pray. I exclaim out loud at text messages.  

The power of friendship opens the window to what may be in the future.  With four boys I can imagine sitting in the stands, praying for my sons to perform their best.

Tonight, our house is going Beaver crazy as we cheer for Taylor and the boys.  Ge Beavers!  Beat those Lions!

Sunday, March 15, 2015


When my blue-eyed boy learned to walk at ten months old I nearly had a heart attack every day.  That precious boy got himself in some humdingers!  He has rarely sat still since.  I spent most of last summer waiting for him to return from adventures in the "forest" or a bike race around the neighborhood.

Those sweet memories make this year's reality bitter.  Two years ago John got bit in the back of the leg by an over-excited dog.  For two years fear has been leaching onto John, slowly dragging him into a pit of fear.  His fear is one I understand well.  I was terrified of dogs as a girl.  There was a man-eating St. Bernard I had to encounter each walk to the park.  There was a vicious lab who terrorized the park.  Somehow I didn't let the fear keep me from adventures, although I do remember at least once my beautiful sister had to fetch Mom to rescue me from the vicious lab who had surrounded me while I was up on the slide. 

Fear has fenced John in.  Our neighborhood is teeming with dogs, all friendly.  Sometimes the furry friends get out of their spaces and run as wild as the children.  So John remains within sprinting distance of the house.   His fear convincing him that at any moment the licky-monsters are going to turn into "vicious man-eating dogs!"  His fear has convinced him that all dogs are to be feared, even dogs he layed in the grass with last summer.

It has broken my heart.  So we bring it to God.  Every night we pray together asking God to heal him from his fear.  When he goes outside we talk about being courageous and that God is bigger than his fear. 

And we, my blue-eyed boy and I, wait for God to answer....