Original Post:
Just when I’d settled back into my Happy Place, some lame forecaster had to see a shadow on the Exclusive Doppler 5000 and predict Blizzard 2010. As in, we may get 2 inches.

Maybe.

But when you live in Alabama, maybe is all it takes to bring all operations to a screeching halt. Our schools have been cancelled for Thursday AND Friday and the first flake has yet to fall. In fact, the precipitation isn’t even anticipated until lunch tomorrow. But hey, we are serious about our weather preparedness south of the Mason Dixon. If you don’t believe me, just check out the bread aisles and milk coolers in town. There’s not a loaf or gallon to be had within the city limits. No worries, though. In our house, it’s much more practical to just buy a feed trough and 2 cases of Ramen noodles.

For real, I do hope we get enough snow for the kids to play in at some point. We used to have great ones in North Carolina and Kentucky but they weren’t old enough to remember. There was one particular snowstorm in NC that pushed me to the brink of sanity. Days 1 and 2 were amusing but when all was said and done, I was trapped in a seminary apartment with 3 kids ages 4 and under for 13 days straight. When we were finally able to drive out, I felt like Tom Hanks when he was finally rescued in Cast Away. I’m pretty sure I looked just that unkempt and was only communicating in grunts until Luke gently reintroduced me to civilization.

What do y’all do when you are snowed in? Please don’t tell me you sit around and play board games and exacerbate my feelings of inadequacy where engaging my children in meaningful activity is concerned. I’m perfectly content to keep the hot chocolate coming and the warm baths run for when they come in soaked. Or if this thing turns out like I suspect, when they come in with a marble sized snow/dirt wad they scrounged from in between the grass that is still showing through the dusting we’ll get.

But at least they are safe at home instead of risking the walk across the field to the school house.

If I were a man, I would recap by quoting undecipherable statistics or by telling you what a “physical” team we have become or how we have finally learned how to “put four quarters together”. However, being a girl who just recently learned to appreciate the beauty of a perfectly-executed onside kick, I can only express my thoughts through the emotion of what it felt like to sit on the edge of those bleachers with my heart in my throat Friday after Friday. It may mean nothing to a group of teenage boys that there was a middle-aged preacher’s wife in the crowd who finally wanted to understand the game because of you and I’m not asking for it to. But, you guys who know me understand that just because you don’t care won’t keep me from telling you.

I’ve never known much about the history of our school’s football team save for overhearing the retelling of past golden days by the men of our community who were either members of those teams or a witness to them. I’ve learned much about the pride our town takes in past victory. It thoroughly amuses me to watch the faces of these guys as they remember old coaches and remarkable plays. With that said, would you players like to know what you have done for those guys? For our town?

You’ve given us fresh legend.

No one has to look back any further than a couple of weeks to have a new smile on their face over your accomplishments.   They don’t have to reach into past coaching eras because we have that man today who has led our team to the winningest season in school history.  These men are no longer recounting the plays of when they were on the winning team because now the pinnacle of their gameday pride is in their very own sons.    Boys, I hope your parents don’t mind sharing because I think I speak for our community when I say you are our sons as well.  Personally,  I couldn’t have been any more invested if my own kids were on that field. 

No, I don’t have a child on the Varsity team yet, but I will.  Would you like to know what you’ve done for them – especially the one who served as your water boy?  Instead of talking about the jersey numbers of his favorite college players, he is talking about yours.  He wants to emulate you.   You didn’t ask to be some kid’s hero, but that doesn’t keep him from looking up to you and being proud that he was able to be a part of this history-making team in this small way. This mom thanks you for embracing him and being individuals I’m not afraid for him to esteem.   

Seniors (and I’m especially talking to you, Casey, TD, and Dakota), I know it’s so hard walking off that field for the last time but as much as you have been a gift to this community, let the adoration of the crowds and the school spirit that you’ve fired be one that will be the stuff of the tales you tell someday.  More than that, keep your perspective.  God, not football, is life. 

But I’m pretty certain He’s loved watching you, too. 

We are so proud of you, boys! Thank you for a great run…You started fast, now FINISH STRONG!

********
Since we are talking legend, will those of you who followed The Team comment on your favorite play of the season? It is so hard having to narrow it down to one, but mine was definitely that amazing Justin L. onside kick where our boys looked like a black thunder cloud running down that field. Beautiful. I never dreamed in my life I’d call a football play beautiful and there I just did it.

See what you boys have done to me?
********
A portion of the Game Three 90 yard Spirit Line:

The Seniors and Team Captains at Game Two Coin Toss:

 
The Water Boy and Water Girl in Action:

Final Post-Game Prayer:

Only us.  This junk only happens to us.  Doesn’t it?

Luke and I got a call at 4 a.m. Friday and for any of you in ministry, you know that a 4 a.m. phone call is NEVER good news.  Luke ran through the house trying to find a phone.  We always make sure all four of them are nowhere near the base because it’s so fun running through the house in the dark trying to guess where the ringing is coming from without breaking our necks.  Truly fun.   He answered and finally hushed me from repeating ”who is it?  what’s wrong?”  to say, “It’s me calling.”  Huh?  When he told me that it was the phone tree I freaked.  The reason I freaked is because we are the last people on the list so I knew that it had already called the entire church.  Luke ran to the offices and jerked the thing out of the wall – about 2 hours too late.   The reason for these random times is still a mystery because all the settings are programmed for 10 AM – 6 PM.  Go figure.

To say we’ve been catching a little flack is a colossal understatement.  Enough people have heard about The Call now that it has officially become a Town Incident.  At the football game last night WHICH WAS A SCHOOL HISTORY-MAKING WIN I might add, at least 20 people wanted to know what the deelio and when I tried to explain to by-standers they would say, “Oh yeah, someone told me about that.”  

(By the way, I can’t believe I just used the word deelio.  All this smash mouth football has me feeling all edgy.) 

We’ve even gotten mail about The Incident.  One of our most precious, darlin’ church members whom I love with all my heart sent this note:

“I know I wear my ‘kerby frown’ in the choir sometimes and maybe even sometimes when you are preaching, but please…I don’t mean to.  It’s just a part of me —  My husband used to ask, “S., are you mad?”   OH…I didn’t send you a card in October!  Maybe that’s it?  No?   Hmmm…  what could it be?  What would make my sweet, adorable, cute little pastor wake up a peacefully sleeping little ole white haired lady in the middle of the night with the ringing of her phone??  I KNOW… You Love Me!!  I love you too!” 

There’s more to her letter but I want to be sure to include the part she said about me being the “best of the best wife” because it makes me happy.   We adore you, S!!!

We are grateful everyone has been good-humored about the whole thing though we do know the alarm it caused.  If anyone is ticked, well, all I can say is now you know how it feels to be a pastor who gets middle-of-the-night phone calls more than he lets on.  

In the meantime, I’m thinking no one will forget their shoe boxes Sunday morning.  {You’re welcome, Franklin Graham.}  And if you don’t bring one, be warned.

You may just get another call from the pastor.

I’ll never forget being glued to the television set during the coverage of Hurricane Katrina.  One interview that marked me forever was of a man fresh off of one of the buses that transported those made homeless to safe shelter.  He literally walked down the steps and straight into a cameraman who asked, “Sir, how do you feel right now?”  The man answered in a single word:  “Overdue.”  He went on to explain that he hadn’t eaten, hadn’t showered, hadn’t shaved, hadn’t slept in days.  He said again, “I’m overdue for everything.”  And then he burst into tears.  

I’m in no way suggesting what I am about to tell you dare rivals the seriousness of the experiences of Katrina’s victims.  However; in concept only, our high school football team knows what it feels like to be overdue.  To want desperately to finally take hold of the wins that have eluded them season after season.  To catch one stinkin’ break.  And they aren’t the only ones who have waited.  Year after year our community has poured into the stadium for the opening game to see  how the team will perform.  Unsurprisingly, only the faithful who support the organization and its players rather than dwell on the scores have stuck around through Game 10 as our last two years’ records have settled at 3-7.     

The past few years also haven’t been easy ones for our young coach who has quietly and patiently been building a program while scoffers ranted over the numbers on the board.  I’ve often told his adorable wife that being married to a coach and married to a preacher aren’t altogether different.  When people are joining, teams are winning, tithes are rolling in, fans are attending, then everyone is your best friend.  When numbers and morale are down, it’s best to keep U-Haul on standby.  Such is the fickle nature of people and yet, when you are in any type of leadership position you learn to accept it for what it is and keep your shoulder to the sled until the Lord sees fit to place you in another field.

So, yes.  We’ve been overdue.  Overdue for victory. Overdue for respect.  Overdue for the payoff that hard work is supposed to afford.  Overdue for everything.

That’s why it has been such a sweet time to experience along with this team their win as Region Champions for the first time in 29 years!

DID YOU EVEN SEE THAT COMING?

My husband has the supreme privilege of serving as the chaplain for this fabulous team whom he has grown to love as brothers and sons.  Something Luke shared with them is a truth we can all remember: “Faith without works is dead.”  It’s not enough just to want to win – you have to work to win.  These coaches and players have done just that and are reaping the rewards of faithfulness.  Most impressive to me is that these kids are not just learning how to be excellent football players.  We are blessed to have a coaching staff more interested in making them excellent men.  And hey, if we happen to go 9-1 while they do it, we’ll take that too.

Friday night we will play our first round state play off game and to say the town is abuzz is a colossal understatement.  It’s truly a great moment to live in my tiny city and I’m praying the thrill and sentimentality of it isn’t lost anytime soon.   The boys have had a saying this year that the community has adopted as a rebel yell:  “It’s Hammer Time!”  There couldn’t be a motto any more appropriate because there comes a day for all of us when it’s high time we go from being the smashed to the smasher.

Which begs the question, my homies and invisible friends alike:

WHAT TIME IS IT!?

If you know the answer and would like to cheer the team on, feel free to YELL IT IN THE COMMENTS!

Genius.

I’ve been putting off getting a new one because I was afraid they would have to take my picture and it is rare for me to have fixed hair, make-up and decent clothes all on one occasion. Since it was unlikely those planets were going to align again anytime soon, the solar system dictated the Tuesday window not be missed.

Returning home from City In Between, I had to pass through the town where the court house is located. I hadn’t planned on making the stop but did anyway hoping I would  have enough identification to simply print a duplicate. As is usually the case, my imaginations on how things should work and the reality of how they in fact actually do are worlds apart.

I knew when Luke and I first had our licenses issued in Alabama that we had to bring everything but the doctor who delivered us to the office to prove our identity. I accept that.  But call me naive, I’m thinking if I’ve already provided all that info once and my picture is on file in the computer system then all one should have to do is look at said photo, my social security card, my utilities bill and surmise that yes, I am indeed Lisa McKay.

Notsomuch.

Turns out getting the replacement was the same process as having one issued.   So, because Tuesday had to be the day (remember the planets were aligned!) I went all the way home, retrieved the documents and rushed back before the office closed.

A precious girl by the name of Trudy waited on me. If precious court house employee isn’t an oxymoron I don’t know what is but I’ve never met a government worker so happy to be doing her job in all my life. Apparently I was her ‘baby girl’ and ‘sunshine’ because she referred to me as one or the other no less than 20 times.. Then, and this is the best part, she posed me (Chin a little higher up, Sunshine! Oh yes, baby girl..that’s a keeper!) to make absolute sure my picture was cute. Have you ever? It may possibly be the first time I have a driver’s license photo in which I don’t look like Nick Nolte’s latest mug shot.

So, I’m done with the photo shoot and am expecting my laminated card to pop out of a machine somewhere when Trudy tells me I should receive it in about 30 days. 30 days? Does anything take 30 days in this day and time? Oh, but wait. I live in Alabama. Here we are still using a printing process akin to Fred Flintstone’s time clock in which he puts a slab of granite in a dinosaur’s mouth so he can chomp down the info with his teeth.

Trudy explains that she will be giving me a paper copy of my license.  She hit ‘Print’ and then I see a concerned look cross her face. Not good. Trudy Concerned is also an oxymoron.  “Sweet darlin’ baby girl, I need you to look here on my screen.” In giant red letters, an alert said:  MUST SEE EXAMINER. UNRESOLVED VIOLATION.

What? I don’t have unresolved violations!? There are many things as yet unresolved in my life (Should I cut my hair short?  What color do I paint my fingernails?  What is God’s will for my life?)   but as far as I know they all fall within the realm of legal. Come to find out, the State of Georgia had not cleared a Click It Or Ticket that I got almost two years ago so I had to leave the courthouse and go to the Examiner’s office so she could inquire on her computer (which is different than the courthouse computer – must be different breed of dinosaurs inside the machine) as to whether or not I am indeed a fugitive.  Trudy was so devastated and called ahead for me so that I could “go straight to the front of the line, sweet thang”.  I did (thank you, Trudy) and after all of stinkin’ that, Examiner Lady tells me it was fine all along.

Thank you. Thank you for making me drive all the way over here to tell me that when you could have just LOOKED IT UP AND TOLD TRUDY SO THAT SHE WOULDN’T BE CONCERNED about her Sunshine.

I have no witty ending except to say I finally go my driver’s license (with an acceptable picture – Thanks, Trudy!). Kicker is, they expire in December so I get to start all over again.

Here’s hoping I find a day in the next three months when I have fixed my hair, worn makeup and decent clothes all at one time. Maybe I can ride to the Examiner’s Office on the same Hale-Bopp Comet that will most certainly be crossing the sky in front of the total eclipse during a meteor shower.

Love,
Lisa

I had this whole stinkin‘ post typed out and blogger ate it. I’m so upset right now but I’m going to soldier through it again. You can be thankful because I’ll most likely leave out at least half the words in my aggravation of having to do a repeat.

You’re welcome.

I think I began the other post by explaining how, after a weekend of teaching, I am so sick of my own voice that I try my best not to speak much for a couple of days. With that said, other than suggesting to the children they may want to keep the noise level to a healthy roar on teacher in service Monday, I’ve been relishing the quiet and enjoying all the not talking.

A few of you have asked questions about the logistics of our retreat. I’ll try to give you some info and finish a recap in a handy, dandy list format:

1. We began our retreats in our current church four years ago with less than twenty women attending. We rented a cabin at, where else, Eagles Ridge and conducted our Bible study in the great room. We cooked one common meal in the kitchen but mostly ate in restaurants together for the others.

This year we took close to 90 women which is huge for my teeny tiny town. I hear the size of our Exodus was a hot topic of conversation at the grocery store and gas station. Since our group has grown so, we are now renting 6 large cabins and have moved our Bible study to the facility club house. Because we obviously can’t eat out together, we decided to offer meals as part of the program. My wonderful mom-in-law Frankie, my precious friend Kaye, and my bff forever Kelly provided the catering. They not only agreed to do our event, but actually enjoy cooking. Can you even imagine? Thanks again to all three of you. Your joyful act of service took our fellowship to an entirely new level.

Don’t y’all love their matching aprons?

2. We have four study sessions beginning Friday night. We then meet Saturday morning, Saturday night, and Sunday morning. {Don’t start raggin‘ on me about the Sunday thing. I’m very conflicted about it but as it is, there is a two day weekend minimum stay and if we don’t use it we lose it. It being one day a year, the stewardship issue, and our own Sunday morning worship teamed with the blessing of the pastor dictate we stay until Sunday – at least for now.} We have our meal first, then worship in song, followed by the teaching segment.

Saturday is a free day between morning and night sessions in which most girls go shopping. I normally head towards Five Oaks Outlet Mall. However, this year the wonderful, darlin‘ girls in our group took up a love collection and gave Jenny (worship leader) and me a trip to Gatlinburg Day Spa. I’ve never been in my life until Valentine’s Day and now twice in two months! What?! It’s hard to say which spa I enjoyed more but let me tell you, the heated massage table at GDS is an extravagance I never dreamed existed. I didn’t think I would be able to drag myself off it.

I have to tell you I was incredibly overwhelmed while sitting in the quiet room overlooking the beautiful mountains. All I could think was, “Who am I that God would allow such a flaky, unqualified girl to first presume to teach His Word and then orchestrate a back rub afterward?” It was more than I could take in. We are some spoiled rotten women in the west and I never want to take such pampering for granted. I am humbled, I do not deserve this outlandish grace, but I gratefully receive it in the love it was given. Girls, thank you, thank you, thank you!

3. Saturday night’s session was followed by an after party in which we were entertained by the lyrical stylings of Brooke and Kim aka The Queens of Karaoke. I can’t even do it justice so you should really go here and check out the performance on your own.

4. I was so pumped that my sister, Christi, was able to come along with me. Her hubby just took his first pastorate so we are officially sister PW’s!

You have to know mine and Christi’s relationship to understand that we love each other through sarcasm, i.e., if she makes fun of me then I know that’s a compliment – I think. She told me something I said Sunday morning that is probably the most theologically thought-provoking thing I’ve ever uttered. She tells it better than I ever could here. By the way, y’all really have to read her blog, Just Curious. She is funnier on accident than I’ve ever hoped to be on purpose.

5. The Gang’s all here! Or most of it anyway. This picture makes me smile really, really big. There were women on the retreat ranging from ages 12 through 79. There is no other name but Jesus by which such a diverse group can have such commonality! I love each and every one of you and can not wait til next year!

P.S. I lied about the words.

P.S.S. Spectacular Sins will resume next Monday. Mine and Missy’s brains are fried.

What is Mule Day you ask? Well, I’d love to show you some personal photos but it was so crowded this year I couldn’t get anywhere near the arena. I’ve included a stock photo instead. My town has 800 citizens give or take; however, on Mule Day weekend there are anywhere from 12-15,000 people here – as in almost 20x our population.

(Photo courtesy of elcascabel.com)

The draw of Mule Day is a Mule Pull competition where teams from several states bring mule teams to see which ones can pull the most weight. They are hitched to slides stacked with cement blocks and weight is added until they can no longer pull. It’s really a painful thing to watch but don’t worry, I’m assured the screaming, snot-slingin‘ mules are having the time of their lives.

Here’s my Girl. She insisted on theme dressing. I don’t mind so much when the theme is Cowgirl versus Bratz Doll. She actually asked me this morning if I would pick out “some very tiny clothes” for her to wear to school. Umm, that would be a negative.

Riding the ponies in her non-Daisy Dukes.

Boy Number One. Oh my. He bought these glasses at one of the junk vendors and is convinced he’s Eric Estrada from CHiPs. I’m pretty sure the lenses in these things are recycled mirrors that hang in the corner of old gas stations and supermarkets.

Here’s Boy Two packin‘ the $5 heat he bought from the Asian arms dealer. You think I’m kidding. There was a guy there with two booths (I use the term booths loosely…he was actually selling them out of the back of his SUV) filled with bb guns, air soft rifles, and TASERS. Yes, you heard me right. For the low, low price of $15 you could purchase a personal electrocution device. I can’t think of a better thing to sell hundreds of young boys bent on a day of mischief.

Speaking of a day of mischief, I don’t have a picture of Number Three boy. He also bought one of the bb guns. Trouble is, he bought it from the Arms Dealer’s satellite location and it didn’t come with bb’s – even though it was the exact model Boy Two bought that included a package of ammo. Boy 3 asked the man to give him some bb’s and he was told to go away.

Mom to the rescue.

I went to the booth and showed the man both of the gun cases to prove that yes, one had bb’s and so should the other. He told me that his booth didn’t include the bb’s so I asked him to return our money. Who needs a gun with no bullets, right? In a very nice gesture, he not only gave us the small pack of bb’s that should have been included, but he gave us a very large container full. Nothing like a gun vendor who specializes in customer service.

We thanked the man for his generosity and I walked away pleased the kids had plenty of bb’s for their little toy guns.

And the fact I just typed that last sentence still baffles me.

I took the ammo from the boys because 8 year old boy + gun + unlimited bullets + large crowd = TROUBLE. What I didn’t know is that Boy Three snuck the ammo and got into a gun war with another boy. What I also didn’t know is that he shot a lady in the crowd WHO WAS NOT HAPPY ABOUT IT IN THE LEAST. Dear, sweet woman. I wasn’t there but please accept my humble apologies. The boy is grounded for life it if makes it sting any less.

In the meantime, The Girl and I found Luke’s cousins who show horses at Mule Day every year. In a strange twist, they were coming to this festival for years before Luke and I ever moved here. Anyway, The Girl looks forward to seeing her cousins Raven and Ramsey compete and to boot, gets a ride in their miniature horse wagon.

We were blissfully unaware of the gunfire taking place elsewhere in the park.

So now, summer is winding down and the season of rolling yards and Friday night football is upon us.

Have I mentioned I love it here?

P.S. Deedra just got her Mule Day pictures posted. Girlfriend captured the true flava of the day.

I’ll try again tomorrow. I know you can’t wait to hear about snot-blowing mules, bb gun shooting boys, my confrontation with an Asian arms dealer, funnel cakes, and taser guns.

Happy Labor Day!