For months, I have been aware of an impending conflict between our spiritual and worldly pursuits. Two big events. Same time. Different places. Now, don't ask me why the CYO administrators have a knack for scheduling championship games on days like Pentacost Sunday or the day of diocesan ordinations (you know, those unimportant days in diocesan life), but they do.
At any rate, I have been praying that this would work out for us somehow. There was no question that Professor was going to see the ordinations... but please, Lord... get us to the game somehow! He would gladly have sacrificed the game, but his team really needed him in order to advance. We promised him last year that he would not have to miss this year's ordinations. What to do?
Through a series of amazing details, timely wins and losses, scheduling mistakes, traffic light timing, etc., the Chief and the Professor managed to attend the ordination Mass and arrive at the championship quarter final game in just enough time to lead a come-from-behind victory...before racing to the post-ordination reception at the seminary in a sweaty uniform. These efforts meant that, after Mass the next day, we were able to watch Professor's team sweep the semi-final and championship matches against higher ranked teams... which we followed up with a lovely lunch with Grandma and Grandpa (at which Little Cub sat in his first high chair and made lunges at the resident iguana).
Thank you, Lord, for clearing away the obstacles so that Professor did not have to sacrifice his heart's desire or his commitment. I am so grateful.
Incidentally, I listened to the final half of the championship game from a bench in the girls bathroom with a sweaty, sleeping baby in my arms. The gym was so hot and the baby so heavy that I thought I was going to pass out and the bathroom was the only cool place with a spot on which to sit down. I familiarized myself with the unique sounds of the fans of the two teams and started a rough point count in my head depending on whose fans were cheering. I wondered for a while who the startlingly loud and male Whoo Whoo sound was coming from -- you know the sound; the deep barking sound men emit when they watch football -- and was a bit surprised to find that it was coming from... my husband! (He insisted that the boys needed a higher level of encouragement to keep the momentum.) I also distinctly heard a loud whoop and whistle from Grandma! Although separated from the gym by a block wall, I could actually hear shoes squeaking and kids and coaches calling plays. I prayed for victory; partially because I wanted to see the hard work of those kids rewarded... and partially because I really wanted to get out of that bathroom. :)
Next step... preparing for USA Junior Nationals!!
|2011 Priestly Ordinations -- Diocese of Cleveland|
|Still flying high from the joy of the morning.|
Blocking the competition
|Little Cub's first time in a high chair and loving every minute|