Super Blessed

Here is a list of things I care about, in order of importance:
1.  Jesus
2.  My family
3.  My friends
4.  Parties!
5.  Everything else
6.  Mealworms
7.  Super Bowl

Given the option, I would rather watch a documentary on snails than the Super Bowl.  Especially if the documentary were narrated by that British guy who narrates Planet Earth.  That guy is so emphatic!

However, when the Super Bowl is combined with a party, I am all over that like a fat kid on chocolate cake.  (Or, well, like me on chocolate cake.)  To me, a sporting event is really a social event.  I loved going to basketball games in college only because I knew I got almost two hours of uninterrupted chatting with friends like Cindy.  Well, except for when somebody scored something and the whole place erupted into screams and high-fives.  That was sooooo annoying!  It made me lose my train of thought.

(Speaking of losing trains of thought, I just spent the last I don't know how many minutes perusing Cindy's blog after checking the link because I love it.  And her.  So where were we?)

Oh, right...Super Bowl.  Our church hosted a big 'ole party for teens through 20-somethings.  It was awesome and I loved it, of course.  We got to hang out with friends and eat food and chase babies and criticize Madonna.  (Except really I was jealous because I can't move like that or wear heels like that and I'm half her age.  When I am 50 I'll be wearing orthopedics.  I secretly want to wear them now.)  They had the game on both giant screens in our auditorium and I didn't even notice the score until just before we left toward the end of the fourth quarter, when I looked up and thought to myself, "Huh.  I wonder who is winning?  Wait.  Who is even playing?"  That's right, and I'm proud.

You know who loved it even more?  Our baby.  Miss Thing done just about lost her mind.  She got to eat popcorn and tortilla chips with dip for dinner, play with other kids, get carried around by teens, get laughed at by grown-ups, get music played for her by 20-somethings.  She basically spent the better part of three hours running, chasing, exploring, interrupting and laughing.  And trying to steal people's soda cans.

She is wearing a pair of my baby shoes.
That makes them vintage!

I can't even describe how happy this makes my heart.  I still remember so clearly that day a year and a half ago, three days before our last day with Young Life, when we were at a staff meeting at camp.  The camp director got up to speak, noticed all of the pregnant wives in the room, and gave one of those "I was going to talk about something else but I feel led to talk about this instead" speeches.  He went on to talk about what a blessing it is to raise children while on Young Life staff while we, knowing we were leaving, bit back tears of sadness, hurt, and frustration.  We wanted that life.  We planned for that life.  We bought a house to live that life.  We had dreamed of our babies being loved by teens and staying up too late because Bible study was still going on in our basement.  It felt like that life was being stolen from us.

 

Except it wasn't stolen from us.  It was given back to us, re-packaged and re-purposed and better than we imagined.  Our little family has been welcomed with loving arms by this church and these kids and these families and I don't know where we'd be without them.  This is community, and this is good.

He lost that round of MarioKart just for her.
If that's not love, I don't know what is.

There's something really special about watching your little one run around with and get loved on by people you care about.  People you take time to get to know.  She's getting to see since before she could walk that community is worth any cost and that life is meant to be lived with others.  That's what I love so much about this place; it feels like everything works in a circle, the way a family should.  It's babies running around during "grown up" time and teenagers climbing on chairs to play hide-and-seek with second graders.  It's parents of teens offering to watch your baby so you can help lead a high school small group.  It's moms of grown kids hanging out with moms of babies.  It's imperfect people laughing together and giving each other grace.      

Dancing like a rock star with friends.
That is always her "dance stance."

Clapping like a rock star.
Or like Steve Martin in The Jerk.

It's full-circle blessings, baby. 

"'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.'  The second is this: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’  There is no commandment greater than these." Matthew 12:30-31     

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