a faith observed: Little slugger

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Little slugger

It was an especially sad St Raja's Day this past week, as I missed my dad sorely on his March 2nd birthday. But that evening, after a dinner of blueberry pancakes and real maple syrup, we retired to the backyard for a game of T-ball, in honor of my dad. Having not played t-ball for quite some time we started out with the t-ball set my mom bought for Simon when he was 18 months old. Within five minutes we decided to graduate to soft ball (or plastic ball maybe is more accurate). We were stunned. Simon is no doubt, a natural athlete and baseball might well be his thing. It was a happy ending to a sad day, as I felt a special connection to my dad as I watched my son delighting in the sound of the ball cracking against the bat, the thrill of connecting the two and seeing the ball fly across the yard. It took me back to my own childhood, playing baseball with my dad. I can still see him throwing the baseball straight up into the air for what seemed like a mile, and then catching it gracefully in his mit as it returned to earth. I loved hearing the story of how a major league scout had seen him play when he was a kid and said, "That boy could play major league ball". In my last conversation with my dad, in the car on the way to JFK airport on that cold January day in 2008 when we said goodbye, I asked my dad, "Is there anything else you wanted to do in life?" He sheepishly smiled and said, "Well, I always did want to be a major league baseball player."

2 comments:

Rachel said...: Thanks, Liz. I needed this!; March 7, 2011 at 12:21 PM
Marge said...: Aw Liz....thanks for the pictures and the reminder that Dad loved baseball so much!! And I know he would love to be throwing a ball to Simon and watching him smack it!!; March 9, 2011 at 1:41 AM

Post a Comment

This is me, a faith observed.

C.S. Lewis writes about the pain of losing his beloved wife, Joy, in his book, "A Grief Observed". In some ways this is my attempt to share my journey through grief and back into life, as the past nine months have been characterized by an immeasurable longing for my beloved father, who died suddenly this past January.

After months of hibernation from the internet, I unexpectedly find myself able to re-begin this blog and connect with my larger community of family and friends. This blog will likely reflect less of the intensity and depth of my pain and more of the simplicity and ordinary joy that keeps my life full - namely days running after our little boy, Simon Pierre. But it is because of the incredible love and presence that defined my relationship with my father, that I feel I can will myself to not just survive each day but to pour that same kind of love and attention onto Simon.

My father was an endless source of strength to me, a pillar of faith. His last words, spoken to my mother as he passed into that which is unseen, "God is good - good all the time", have remained with me through this dark cloud of grief. And when God seems hidden, when justice seems to be losing out, when life is unfair, and when death swallows up the one I most love, I remember my father's words and breathe in this promise, that the God of love is in the process of restoring that which has been destroyed.

And as my father told me in dream I've had since his death, "Look to Jesus. As a father, to point you towards Him is the best gift I can give to you." So here I am, this is me, a faith to be observed.

I hold onto that which is not always seen- the promise of God's goodness, the hope that one day in the promised new heavens and earth- on a grassy hill or a sand covered beach- the lion and the lamb will lie down side by side and I, too, will lie down side by side, next to my father, and we will laugh and laugh until there are no more tears left to cry.