As the weather outside suggests, it feels like a good time for brainstorming.
Ladies and gentlemen, Lent is upon us. You know Lent, right? that reason we have Mardi Gras (and the reason it is always on a Tuesday), that begins on Ash Wednesday, that ends 40 days after it begins, that is based on and modeled after the biblical story of the temptation of Jesus in the desert, that ushers in the Easter season? that leave-you-guilt-ridden-because-you-forget-to-not-eat-meat-on-Friday liturgical season designed to suck the fun out of life before Easter comes and goes "expecto patronum" on that mug? you know, Lent!
To many people, Lent means "no chocolate for 5 weeks." "Facebook fast" and "no meat on Friday...but delicious shrimp po-boys, crawfish boils and seafood gumbo are all go." ... I mean, chocolate IS delicious, social networking can be time-wasting and seafood isn't technically considered meat...everybody has their own degree of sacrifice. Anyway...
the other day i came across a pretty neat link on Lifeteen.com on Creative things to do for Lent and was amused, entertained and enlightened. Check it out. it's worth the time you were going to spend perusing Facebook (or reading my words, for that matter)...
building on that fun little article, i dug up some of my favorite lenten sacrifices. i've done a couple, most are from my friends. and as always, these are actual penances...penanceses...penacanti...penanci...panini?...pensieves?...penances from actual people (names hidden so as to protect confidentiality and to promote the virtue of prudence):
- "I befriended someone i hated."
- "I met a new person every day."
- "did ALL my homework and assignments on my own and did not let my classmates to cheat off of me...it wasn't popular."
- "not skip any classes."
- "ate veggies instead of candy."
- "when i wanted to buy a candy bar, i'd put the money i would have spent on it into a charity box."
- "mine was to be vulnerable and ask out my crush" (<-- are="" cats="" heh.="" married="" now="" out="" these="" turns="">
- "Read Part III of the Catechism: Life in Christ"
- "No A/C or radio in the car...in Louisiana, that got kinda hot."
- "I'm really messy so I kept my room clean. It was harder than it sounds."
- "gave up fast food. so i inadvertently ended up fasting a lot."
- "Read an Encyclical each Sunday"
- "I gave up drinking beer and put the beer money in a jar."
- "i began tithing. i felt like i got punched in the gut at first, but once Lent was over i got used to it."
- "I gave up shaving...it was itchy."
- "One of the toughest things i've done was one year, any time i was itching, i didn't scratch. i just let it itch until it went away. THAT was tough."
- "I always complained about being out of shape, so i ran a mile every day. I didn't run on Sundays. At the beginning my time was just over 10 minutes but by the end i was well under 7 minutes! and i felt better about myself. I even started running 2 miles a day in the last two weeks!"
there are SO MANY things you can do during lent to prepare for Easter. please let me remind you that WHAT we give up (or add on) isn't nearly as important as WHY we give up (or add on). why is WHY more important than WHAT? for the bible tells me so:
"If I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, but do not have love, I have become a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy, and know all mysteries and all knowledge; and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 And if I give all my possessions to feed the poor, and if I surrender my body to be burned, but do not have love, it profits me nothing." - 1 Cor. 13:1-3
i understand that love in this context is a "what"...but it can also be the answer to "why" you do what you do.
so no matter what you choose to do for Lent; do it for love.
In all things, charity.
Peace,
Daytona
13 February 2013
01 December 2012
Fr. Doyle, in our hearts
I write with a heavy heart. I just received word that one of my dear priests has passed from this life to the next. Fr. Doyle was assigned to St. Theodore for, gosh, as long as i can remember. Certainly since my formative years as an adolescent going through the Life Teen program over in good ole Moss Bluff, Louisiana. He was elderly and had been ill for a little while, so it was no surprise that his time was at hand. But it still hurts, it's still painful, to say goodbye to someone who means so much to myself and so many others.
He suffered a stroke years before i knew him. Before he did, I've been told he could recite the order of the mass from memory, that he was incredibly brilliant, that he had rare credentials in studying Canon Law, that he wrestled anacondas and yetis in the amazon with a bowie knife. I may have made that last one up, but more impressive than the stories of this man's intellect was the love i witnessed from his heart. That's not to say i think that any time developing the intellect is wasted, by all means, intellect yourself! I'm saying that the writing and preaching of philosophical and theological ideas pales in comparison to experiencing that which God has entrusted us to be to one another. That's why talking to people face-to-face is better than a phone call, e-mail or text. Speaking of faces, please do yourself a favor and read Until We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I'm pretty sure you won't regret it.
So yeah, i only knew part of the man part of his life, but i like to think i knew the better part of the man for the better part of his life. He had a quick, dry wit (drier than Hawkeye liked his martinis), a charitable smile, wile hair and a sort of a John Wayne walk, nearly always with a dog and/or a prayer book. He loved his animals, gosh did he love them. And a i can assure you, without a doubt, he loved me. No question. I've been blessed to have been given incredible examples of love in my life. So many people. It's not fair. And he was definitely one of them. He made sure and listen to anything i spoke, as difficult as it was for me to articulate my heart to him. He made sure a heart was heard and spoke simply and plainly, accordingly. I often went to him for confession. Each time he would stand up, give me a huge bear hug and tell me he loved me. He never let me forget it.
and as selfish as it may sound, the source of much of this pain comes in knowing that i'll never again (in this life) see someone who loved me. Because love is unique; each person gives and receives it differently. Part of it's beauty is in the specifically unique dynamic of the persons involved. But as Ecclesiastes reminds us, there's a time for all things.
In closing, i'll leave y'all with a few of his quirky, dog bone dry Doyle-isms:
"Humility is my proudest possession."
"Love me, love my dogs."
"I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of what's in it."
"Thanks...be........to..............................God."
"Sometimes i just can't see how a 6 foot man fits into a little piece of bread."
He suffered a stroke years before i knew him. Before he did, I've been told he could recite the order of the mass from memory, that he was incredibly brilliant, that he had rare credentials in studying Canon Law, that he wrestled anacondas and yetis in the amazon with a bowie knife. I may have made that last one up, but more impressive than the stories of this man's intellect was the love i witnessed from his heart. That's not to say i think that any time developing the intellect is wasted, by all means, intellect yourself! I'm saying that the writing and preaching of philosophical and theological ideas pales in comparison to experiencing that which God has entrusted us to be to one another. That's why talking to people face-to-face is better than a phone call, e-mail or text. Speaking of faces, please do yourself a favor and read Until We Have Faces by C.S. Lewis. I'm pretty sure you won't regret it.
So yeah, i only knew part of the man part of his life, but i like to think i knew the better part of the man for the better part of his life. He had a quick, dry wit (drier than Hawkeye liked his martinis), a charitable smile, wile hair and a sort of a John Wayne walk, nearly always with a dog and/or a prayer book. He loved his animals, gosh did he love them. And a i can assure you, without a doubt, he loved me. No question. I've been blessed to have been given incredible examples of love in my life. So many people. It's not fair. And he was definitely one of them. He made sure and listen to anything i spoke, as difficult as it was for me to articulate my heart to him. He made sure a heart was heard and spoke simply and plainly, accordingly. I often went to him for confession. Each time he would stand up, give me a huge bear hug and tell me he loved me. He never let me forget it.
and as selfish as it may sound, the source of much of this pain comes in knowing that i'll never again (in this life) see someone who loved me. Because love is unique; each person gives and receives it differently. Part of it's beauty is in the specifically unique dynamic of the persons involved. But as Ecclesiastes reminds us, there's a time for all things.
In closing, i'll leave y'all with a few of his quirky, dog bone dry Doyle-isms:
"Humility is my proudest possession."
"Love me, love my dogs."
"I'm not afraid of the dark. I'm afraid of what's in it."
"Thanks...be........to..............................God."
"Sometimes i just can't see how a 6 foot man fits into a little piece of bread."
12 November 2012
a moment from Coach Rob
In what seems like another life, i played football at McNeese State University (i wasn't exactly an all-american). I had the wonderful opportunity to play along side a number of truly talented guys while being coached by many good men. The wide receivers coach, Coach Henry, who kinda looks like a pharaoh/Terrell Owens hybrid, was always good for a few one-liners; most memorably, "Football is easy." Not to say that we were that much better than everyone else, but to say that with everything else in life, football was simple, a game...and playing the game is the easy part.
Who helped remind us that football was easy was our strength and conditioning coach, Coach Rob, a former Marine who walked with a slight limp, was infectiously energetic and possessed an unquenchable passion for human achievement. Most people, in a word, described him as intense. He loved sweat. He loved his players. He loved America. His workouts pissed me off, wore me out, left my legs involuntarily shaking and helped make me a better man. Coach Rob challenged us physically and mentally, and for that i'm incredibly grateful.
What this little story time with uncle Dayton was all about is that every Veteran's Day i think of one specific, resounding moment during one of our summer workouts with Coach Rob.
Usually workout groups were split into 4 people each. As per usual throughout the workout, if you weren't lifting you were either spotting or shooting the breeze with anyone who was willing to catch wind of it. Those were good times. It made workouts bearable. But i digress.
One day, in the midst of some fun political banter, one of my teammates had a slip of the tongue in criticizing the role of our military. I don't remember exactly what he said but it was something along the lines of our military being useless...and i can still feel the stinging silence between his words and the reply of Coach Rob. Do you remember as a child when you accidentally bumped that first vase/statue/anything-way-too-valuable-to-keep-out-when-kids-are-around off the table? That feeling right after it crashes on the floor? That it-just-hit-the-fan, this-just-got-real moment? That moment...
...and we waited for his response, because one doesn't simply upset Coach Rob.
and his response was quite poignant:
"Young man, I sure hope that when you lay your sweet little head on your sweet little pillow in your sweet little bed tonight that you remember why you can do it safely. And i hope you remember all those who can't do the same because they're out there putting their lives on the line to protect your ass for your freedom. And you to take them for granted. Because God knows these men and women sure as hell don't do it for themselves. They do it for you. And I hope you remember that."
i'm not sure if he did, but i certainly remember that. and it's stayed with me for all these years, reminding me of the gratitude we are to have for those who give themselves in service to you and me, Democrats, Republicans and every person in between in this lovely nation we call the United States of America...even if we're at eachother's throats most of the time.
(side note/thinking point) These servicemen and servicewomen lay their necks on the line for us to live as we do. our path to freedom has been paved in blood, battle and sacrifice. do we truly respect their sacrifice by the way we govern our freedom?
"Give us a clear vision on where to stand and for what to stand--because unless we stand for something, we shall surely fall for anything." - Peter Marshall
Who helped remind us that football was easy was our strength and conditioning coach, Coach Rob, a former Marine who walked with a slight limp, was infectiously energetic and possessed an unquenchable passion for human achievement. Most people, in a word, described him as intense. He loved sweat. He loved his players. He loved America. His workouts pissed me off, wore me out, left my legs involuntarily shaking and helped make me a better man. Coach Rob challenged us physically and mentally, and for that i'm incredibly grateful.
What this little story time with uncle Dayton was all about is that every Veteran's Day i think of one specific, resounding moment during one of our summer workouts with Coach Rob.
Usually workout groups were split into 4 people each. As per usual throughout the workout, if you weren't lifting you were either spotting or shooting the breeze with anyone who was willing to catch wind of it. Those were good times. It made workouts bearable. But i digress.
One day, in the midst of some fun political banter, one of my teammates had a slip of the tongue in criticizing the role of our military. I don't remember exactly what he said but it was something along the lines of our military being useless...and i can still feel the stinging silence between his words and the reply of Coach Rob. Do you remember as a child when you accidentally bumped that first vase/statue/anything-way-too-valuable-to-keep-out-when-kids-are-around off the table? That feeling right after it crashes on the floor? That it-just-hit-the-fan, this-just-got-real moment? That moment...
...and we waited for his response, because one doesn't simply upset Coach Rob.
and his response was quite poignant:
"Young man, I sure hope that when you lay your sweet little head on your sweet little pillow in your sweet little bed tonight that you remember why you can do it safely. And i hope you remember all those who can't do the same because they're out there putting their lives on the line to protect your ass for your freedom. And you to take them for granted. Because God knows these men and women sure as hell don't do it for themselves. They do it for you. And I hope you remember that."
i'm not sure if he did, but i certainly remember that. and it's stayed with me for all these years, reminding me of the gratitude we are to have for those who give themselves in service to you and me, Democrats, Republicans and every person in between in this lovely nation we call the United States of America...even if we're at eachother's throats most of the time.
(side note/thinking point) These servicemen and servicewomen lay their necks on the line for us to live as we do. our path to freedom has been paved in blood, battle and sacrifice. do we truly respect their sacrifice by the way we govern our freedom?
"Give us a clear vision on where to stand and for what to stand--because unless we stand for something, we shall surely fall for anything." - Peter Marshall
21 September 2012
A Letter to Mr. Grumbles
Dear Sir,
I apologize for our wake up call system. I checked, double checked and confirmed that all the wake-up calls were correctly scheduled in our house phone system. I am sorry that i did not follow up immediately as i waited 5 minutes from your original scheduled time. Thank you for bringing our faults to attention as we aim to provide you with a quality guest service experience. We are working as best we can to rectify this issue.
On a side note, I do understand that your day began poorly. I urge you to please remember that i am as human as you are and i do not appreciate the condescending language your tongue provided at the expense of decency. The accusations you placed on me are completely false. Please do not make assumptions based upon less than factual circumstance. Also, if you absolutely must direct vulgar language at me, please be man enough to do so in front of me, not as you exit the door. Do not walk away from me while you accuse me of not caring, or as you so-less-than-eloquently put it "feeding (you) shit" (though breakfast is included with your stay). That is cowardly. I do care about you; as a guest and as a person. I am sorry that my efforts failed you.
I again apologize for our fault and i forgive you for the way you treated me. That you would treat a complete stranger with such animosity concerns me. Please know that i am praying for you and yours. I am sorry i was not able to share these words with you in person. I do hope we meet again in less-than-hostile circumstances.
Sincerely,
Dayton Landry
"People are often unreasonable, irrational and self-centered; Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives; Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies; Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you; Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight; Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous; Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten; Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it may never be enough; Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God; It was never between you and them anyway."
- Mother Theresa
- (also an original version was credited to Kent M. Keith)
11 September 2012
boring ole lines
I went to a pancake dinner at the Lognion house this weekend. The rest of this entry is all downhill. Really. What could compete with a pancake dinner? Nothing. Especially with all the lovely ladies in their classy dresses, UL-L whipping up on Troy on the TV and the boisterous Mr. Gene filling the air with his jovial eruptions. I'm serious. I haven't slept in a while. It's all downhill from here...but if you insist:
My brother (head coach) and his John (ass. coach) (fine, assistant coach) happened to be in town for a soccer tournament Saturday evening so i brought them along with me (after clearing it with the hosts, of course. it's the cordial thing to do. remember, kids, always be cordial). Their presence at the dinner gathering had a specific purpose: to supply me with blog ammunition. j/k, j/k...but i have been running low. combine that with my lack of functional laptop and a general lack of thought and we find a reason why i've been posting scantily (lucky you)...but i digress.
At one point in the dinner conversation, ole Johnny boy made an effort to keep the conversation rolling with a wandering comment; something to the tune of "isn't it interesting how the little road markings keep so much order?" and you know what he did? he kicked him...no...nobody was kicked...but he did indeed bring up an interesting point.
Ah! they are little yellow and white lines. that's it. so simple, so plain. so cute...usually. But he's right. These aren't complicated markings. they're simple. Almost too simple...a point to which Mr. Colin Sallinger spoke, saying (again, something to the tune of) "It's funny, because those lines become reasons for so many accidents. People get lulled into boredom and veer outside so often." (nearly echoing (idea-wise) a line from a homily i heard just the week before: (again again, something to the tune of) "When people get bored in their faith, they seek other means to satisfy themselves.")
(yes, i do realize i'm getting parenthesis-happy. no, i do not apologize (and neither does the church for her rules)).
(see what's going on here?)
so we see that the lines aren't the problem...we are. the lines we so often get bored with won't change to fit what we want them to be. they won't get crazy and start jumping back and forth (because, let's be honest, that would only increase the cries, "injustice! this is unfair!"). they. just. won't. now, what they do do is adjust themselves to give us the option to do something reasonably safe, like pass, or switch lanes. you know, in case someone is impeding us from our destination. these rules (whoops, lines) help us reach our destination safely (aaaahhhh...see where we're going? you do, don't you?).
to jack an essay from G.K. Chesterton on what's wrong with the world, he simply (and humbly) says, "I am." but today, the past 5-10 years especially, we're seeing a radical RADICAL change in that mindset. and when we aren't wrong, we hear that voice: "the rules are wrong! overthrow the bigots who won't let us do whatever the hell we please!" ...and you hear the name of God...booed? (G.K., what do you think of that?) yeah, thought so.
and here we arrived. i much rather not spell it out, but people get in trouble when we get bored with the lines that are drawn for our safety, our well-being. and if we aren't humble enough to assume fault, we're on the wrong highway (i think there's a song about that). and we end up with something like a mexican traffic fiesta. (more like siesta!).
so don't be muttleys and follow the lines. they're there to protect you.
Peace,
Daytona
My brother (head coach) and his John (ass. coach) (fine, assistant coach) happened to be in town for a soccer tournament Saturday evening so i brought them along with me (after clearing it with the hosts, of course. it's the cordial thing to do. remember, kids, always be cordial). Their presence at the dinner gathering had a specific purpose: to supply me with blog ammunition. j/k, j/k...but i have been running low. combine that with my lack of functional laptop and a general lack of thought and we find a reason why i've been posting scantily (lucky you)...but i digress.
At one point in the dinner conversation, ole Johnny boy made an effort to keep the conversation rolling with a wandering comment; something to the tune of "isn't it interesting how the little road markings keep so much order?" and you know what he did? he kicked him...no...nobody was kicked...but he did indeed bring up an interesting point.
Ah! they are little yellow and white lines. that's it. so simple, so plain. so cute...usually. But he's right. These aren't complicated markings. they're simple. Almost too simple...a point to which Mr. Colin Sallinger spoke, saying (again, something to the tune of) "It's funny, because those lines become reasons for so many accidents. People get lulled into boredom and veer outside so often." (nearly echoing (idea-wise) a line from a homily i heard just the week before: (again again, something to the tune of) "When people get bored in their faith, they seek other means to satisfy themselves.")
(yes, i do realize i'm getting parenthesis-happy. no, i do not apologize (and neither does the church for her rules)).
(see what's going on here?)
so we see that the lines aren't the problem...we are. the lines we so often get bored with won't change to fit what we want them to be. they won't get crazy and start jumping back and forth (because, let's be honest, that would only increase the cries, "injustice! this is unfair!"). they. just. won't. now, what they do do is adjust themselves to give us the option to do something reasonably safe, like pass, or switch lanes. you know, in case someone is impeding us from our destination. these rules (whoops, lines) help us reach our destination safely (aaaahhhh...see where we're going? you do, don't you?).
to jack an essay from G.K. Chesterton on what's wrong with the world, he simply (and humbly) says, "I am." but today, the past 5-10 years especially, we're seeing a radical RADICAL change in that mindset. and when we aren't wrong, we hear that voice: "the rules are wrong! overthrow the bigots who won't let us do whatever the hell we please!" ...and you hear the name of God...booed? (G.K., what do you think of that?) yeah, thought so.
and here we arrived. i much rather not spell it out, but people get in trouble when we get bored with the lines that are drawn for our safety, our well-being. and if we aren't humble enough to assume fault, we're on the wrong highway (i think there's a song about that). and we end up with something like a mexican traffic fiesta. (more like siesta!).
so don't be muttleys and follow the lines. they're there to protect you.
Peace,
Daytona
23 August 2012
want
The other day i had a little journaling session about how i'd been feeling recently. One of the issues was about 'want'. From time to time i happen to want. I try not to, but it happens, and i notice that it happens with other people, too. (btw, all these "we" pretty much mean "i"...i suppose Gollum and i have something in common...stewpid fat hobbitses)
so here you go...a little something that can hopefully add a lil bit o perspective:
The human heart is a funny and fickle thing. We want. We search. We clamp and clasp and grasp for all these things we have no need for. The great sadness is that in all we want we forget (or forego) the abundances of what we have already been given. And it's not that we see it. We look with blind ambition.
I think back to the days of old; when i was but a tyke (ahh the good ole days...when Dane and David gave me a 9 point lead in a game of basketball and still beat me 10-9. that's what older brothers are for, eh)...
...but i digress...we're talking about the concept of not taking time to appreciate things that we've been given...
I remember (in those good ole days) that every time we left something out in the yard or around the house (toy on the ground, or worse, a baseball glove or bat outside!) or every time we complained of boredom, our dear mother (in the most charitable way possible) threatened us with an all-to-familiar ultimatum: "Boys! If you don't want/take care of your things i swear i'm going to give them to someone who will!" Of course, the object in question immediately became the object of our affection (if only out of fear of mom wrath...never, NEVER induce mom wrath *shudder*). And, yeah, ya know, we had good times with those toys. They were enough for us. They were more than enough for us. But really, it's a shame we let it get to mom-wrath state. We had everything we needed. Still, we needed to be woken up to that realization of "hey! whoa. This stuff is pretty great...and...it's right here; waiting for us to give it a lil' bit of TLC."
so there lies the challenge that plagues so many of us: to recognize all that has been (and continues to be) offered to us with at spirit of gratitude; to see it for what it is; and to give thanks by making the most of it.
How generous His blessings. How silent our gratitude. Heal us from a callous heart.
- DJL
so if you have 4 minutes to spare, give this little diddy a listening to. Good ole Nichole Nordeman.
peace,
Daytona
so here you go...a little something that can hopefully add a lil bit o perspective:
The human heart is a funny and fickle thing. We want. We search. We clamp and clasp and grasp for all these things we have no need for. The great sadness is that in all we want we forget (or forego) the abundances of what we have already been given. And it's not that we see it. We look with blind ambition.
I think back to the days of old; when i was but a tyke (ahh the good ole days...when Dane and David gave me a 9 point lead in a game of basketball and still beat me 10-9. that's what older brothers are for, eh)...
...but i digress...we're talking about the concept of not taking time to appreciate things that we've been given...
I remember (in those good ole days) that every time we left something out in the yard or around the house (toy on the ground, or worse, a baseball glove or bat outside!) or every time we complained of boredom, our dear mother (in the most charitable way possible) threatened us with an all-to-familiar ultimatum: "Boys! If you don't want/take care of your things i swear i'm going to give them to someone who will!" Of course, the object in question immediately became the object of our affection (if only out of fear of mom wrath...never, NEVER induce mom wrath *shudder*). And, yeah, ya know, we had good times with those toys. They were enough for us. They were more than enough for us. But really, it's a shame we let it get to mom-wrath state. We had everything we needed. Still, we needed to be woken up to that realization of "hey! whoa. This stuff is pretty great...and...it's right here; waiting for us to give it a lil' bit of TLC."
so there lies the challenge that plagues so many of us: to recognize all that has been (and continues to be) offered to us with at spirit of gratitude; to see it for what it is; and to give thanks by making the most of it.
How generous His blessings. How silent our gratitude. Heal us from a callous heart.
- DJL
so if you have 4 minutes to spare, give this little diddy a listening to. Good ole Nichole Nordeman.
peace,
Daytona
22 June 2012
It's A Party
Last night i watched Game 5 of the NBA Finals. If you've been detached from the media over the last 24 hours, the Miami Heat won the game handily, clinched the series and was crowned Champion of the NBA. So that's where i begin.
I like watching celebrations. Don't get me wrong, i like being a part of celebrations, too. Some call me a social butterfly...some just call me awesome, but there's a certain and particular joy i find in watching an individual or a team accomplish a goal. And so i watched as the Heat celebrated. And then Jeff Van Gundy said (something to the tune of), "These players get all this money, sign all these big deals but right now none of that matters! This moment is pure, unabashed joy!" And you know, i don't normally care for his commentary...but he had a good point right there.
Confetti shot out from cannons. Ticker tape fell from on high. Streamers and ribbons fluttered, fell and draped the champions as a robe covers a king. A chorus of 19,600 fans rejoiced as they lifted their voices to congratulate their boys, saying "you did it! well done!"
...then repeated in my head one of my favorite bible verses: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." - 2 Timothy 4:7
no, it's not a perfect analogy. and yes, it's just an analogy. it's basketball. it's not everything...but from the moment, this scene took on a new significance. This is how i imagine getting into heaven. We fight. We sacrifice. We trial. We trip. We rise. We persevere. And all along the way those saints, those holy men and women, wait on baited breath to see how we finish the race...if we keep the faith. They wait ever so patiently and they pray. They bring us up when we we need them. They are waiting, waiting to rejoice. And when it finally happens...it's a party.
the pinnacle of this life isn't accomplished until the next.
Peace,
Daytona
I like watching celebrations. Don't get me wrong, i like being a part of celebrations, too. Some call me a social butterfly...some just call me awesome, but there's a certain and particular joy i find in watching an individual or a team accomplish a goal. And so i watched as the Heat celebrated. And then Jeff Van Gundy said (something to the tune of), "These players get all this money, sign all these big deals but right now none of that matters! This moment is pure, unabashed joy!" And you know, i don't normally care for his commentary...but he had a good point right there.
Confetti shot out from cannons. Ticker tape fell from on high. Streamers and ribbons fluttered, fell and draped the champions as a robe covers a king. A chorus of 19,600 fans rejoiced as they lifted their voices to congratulate their boys, saying "you did it! well done!"
...then repeated in my head one of my favorite bible verses: "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." - 2 Timothy 4:7
no, it's not a perfect analogy. and yes, it's just an analogy. it's basketball. it's not everything...but from the moment, this scene took on a new significance. This is how i imagine getting into heaven. We fight. We sacrifice. We trial. We trip. We rise. We persevere. And all along the way those saints, those holy men and women, wait on baited breath to see how we finish the race...if we keep the faith. They wait ever so patiently and they pray. They bring us up when we we need them. They are waiting, waiting to rejoice. And when it finally happens...it's a party.
the pinnacle of this life isn't accomplished until the next.
Peace,
Daytona
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