I played softball all weekend and it was an awesome time. The only problem is that my whole Christian character tends to, well, go to hell in a handbag. There's a few gliches in me that come shining through and end up having a heck of a good time. I probably get a bit too competitive (we lost in the final, by one)... I probably could sit down and match them drink for drink (it's a beer league and I played for the "Brewskies").... and I could probably follow up on all the inuendos passed here and there. But none of it works for the long run. I think that's what keeps getting nailed home to me. If there's something sketchy to say, it'll probably fly out of my mouth. It's really too bad that it's so tough to keep my lips shut. I got to play with my friend Anna - she ended up getting female MVP of the tourney and deserved every bit of it. I picked her up on Saturday morning and the first comment out of her mouth was "Holy F**k! Is that PINK ON YOUR SNEAKERS??? Woman, you need to spend more time with me... get you back into some basic black!". There were a few more r-rated words punctuated in there, but that was more for effect. But just for the record, yes, my Nikes were black and pink. And pretty darn cute. My 15 year old cousin, drunk out of his 15 year old mind held regular attendance at the ball diamond. He came up and gave me a hug and just hung out. I think if his parents spent a little more time with him then he probably wouldn't have been in his then current position. But then again, what do I know?
One of my girlfriend's just got a dog - rescued it after hearing it had been tied to a tree for 2 weeks at one of the local parks. How can someone tie a dog to a tree for two weeks and sleep well at night. She named him Vince. After Vince Vaughn. She also has a cat named Owen. After Owen Wilson. Yes, she's like that. And yes, that's probably why she's my friend. When I had Maggie (my dog) she used to drink out of the toilet (yes, I'm that type of dog owner - I kept it very clean and flushed regularly and if I was out drinking, we'd vye for position, but that's another story) and then come crawl into bed, stretch out on HER side, smack, sigh and then drift off to sleep. This is the 70 lb animal that encouraged me to buy a queen sized bed. So when my friend wants to name her pets Vince Vaughn and Owen Wilson, I really fail to see anything wrong with it. In our world it ties everything in to make a whole lot of sense. Which is, what I like and choose to believe, the exact reason that I spent an extra $700 on a bed. You can ask the questions, but there are no answers. Our worlds are rhetorical.
I feel like I should discuss my weekend a bit more with the few interesting (in both the 'huh' and 'wow-weird' meanings) dynamics that produced themselves from it. I get frustrated with myself that I can't make a committment to God and go back home and have a good time. Things always fall back into the way that they were. And I guess that's what I'm trying to avoid.
"Whatever is good and perfect comes to us from God above who created all heaven's lights. Unlike them He never changes or casts shifting shadows. In His goodness He chose to make us his children by giving us His true word, and we out of all creation, became His choice possession" Jame 1:17
I'm going on the assumption that one of these days, after tripping and landing on my face, I may actually get it right. Or atleast partly.