As I have gotten older I have tried to do a better job in reserving the word "love" for my Savior, spouse and children. It is a word that gets thrown around so carelessly these days that we sometimes find ourselves equating a piece of pizza to our feelings for our own family. That being said, I would now say that I really, really, really LIKE the game of basketball. I started playing on teams in third grade and continued playing at a variety of levels into my thirties. By age 35 I began to see many of my friends on crutches following different injuries. I decided to thank God for my time in the game and simply walk away.
I began watching a good bit of basketball on TV and was always ecstatic when March Madness rolled around each year. Then the announcement came that a professional team named the Grizzlies would be coming to Memphis. I was lured into the pro game because after all these guys were more my age. I could sit in my recliner each night with a bowl of popcorn exclaiming, "Hey I could have done that"! What was even better was that Grizzlies started getting really good. I attended a couple of games in person, but for the most part just watched on TV because I didn't want to neglect my family.
A couple of years ago the Grizzlies' best player got hurt and was out for the rest of the year. I was so sad thinking that their season would be a bust. What happened next was inexplicable. They got better! They started winning most of their games and made the playoffs. How exciting!! I wasn't about to miss a second of any of their playoff games so I began my preparations. On game day I would see how clean I could get the house before tip-off so my wife wouldn't fuss about me watching for three hours straight. I would assist with bath time and pajama time for my girls so that they would not interfere with the BIG game which I have learned just happens to be the NEXT one.
One of my favorite parts of our home is called "the bridge". It is a second floor runway that overlooks the living room with the TV. Almost every night one of the girls will pop out on the bridge and ask my favorite question, "Are you coming up?" Their day was winding down and they would want to spend some quality time with their parents covering the high points and low points of the day. I always looked forward to my invitation into their domain for question and answer time which usually ended with a prayer. How then could this question all of sudden become bothersome? Let me explain.
The Grizzlies not only made the playoffs, they pulled off a major upset in the 1st round and had advanced one step closer to the championship series. Games were running longer and sometimes going into overtime and I began to dread the "are you coming up" question because it would force me to choose. Surely the girls will understand that these are BIG games. Surely my wife can fulfill their needs during this crucial part of the season. My patience was running thin one night as the Grizzlies were falling behind and my girls had now asked for the third time if I was coming up. "In a minute!" I realized I could not put them off much longer so at the next break I began dashing from bedroom to bedroom as quickly as possible. I had 90 seconds to make the rounds.
"Whew", I said, as the first two had already given up and were fast asleep. The next one allowed me a peck on the cheek and didn't say anything to slow me down. When I got to my eldest's room I gave her a hurried hug. As I began to exit I heard the words that pierced my heart. She said, "must be a timeout". I didn't allow her to see my internal bleeding, but I dejectedly walked back to the recliner and plopped down. To this day I don't remember who won that game. What I do remember was later that evening when all of the lights were out kneeling at that same recliner and begging God's forgiveness. "God help me", I said, "to never again make my children feel like they are only worthy of my time during a timeout". I even took it a step further and told God that on the next night if one of my girls came out asking, "are you coming up" that I would sprint up those stairs and not stop listening until they were done talking.
I was reminded that next night of God's wonderful sense of humor when the words "are you coming up" were spoken as the Grizzlies were headed into double overtime. I hit the power OFF button on the remote and thanked God as I climbed each step for the wonderful gift of my children and the privilege of being their Dad. I realized that night that the BIG game wasn't on TV, but it was about to happen in each one of my girl's bedrooms as we discussed the day.
