The clouds are moving quickly this morning in that beautiful way they do…with the little white and grey pillows that tell you it’s cold outside and you are happy to be inside because the wind is there lightly, lightly enough to remind you that you have heat inside…yes, there is always heat inside.
But two nights ago the air was still, perfectly still with those cranes watching over the harbor…I probably could have stayed on the San Pedro field forever. The boys of my high school soccer team had just won the finals of their tournament in penalty kicks, but the harmony and tranquility of the night was already in place. My family was there and my dad had found his old fire and made the nighttime drive out to his childhood, and so that night I was able to see into his past.
***
Winter has arrived and the nights have brought damp prowess but Friday night delivered a warming stillness that only arrives in the company of reconciliation. Yes, the stars do align sometimes but only if we pay attention, only if we acknowledge. The day before…chaos, this night, an opponent coached by an old friend and an old coach of mine. The game would be entertaining and the game would be clean. The game would celebrate the excellence of competition…and although no soccer coach wants to see penalty kicks end a contest, the lasting image is of the two teams, two covalent bonds, both sides with arms draped around each other, the winner breaking briefly to change shape into dog pile on the keeper to finish it off, and so there is drama and celebration.
In my eyes, the game was already over before the penalty kicks began. I hugged my old coach and we congratulated each other on a game well played and toasted each other for a season of potential. Perhaps the gods played out the rest, but in my eyes and in my heart, God had painted this picture complete.
And so after the celebration and a ridiculous six foot tall trophy and the Tebow pose and all the fun, I really could have stayed on that field forever. But I guess with the way our minds our crafted, it can stay that way…it most certainly can. The field was illuminated as if it was the middle of nowhere and the middle of everything simultaneously—a Field of Dreams in Pedro--where it all began for my father. How many memories does he have there? Even in due time when his memory mostly leaves him, I know on Friday night they all came back to him. How do I know? Well, how does anyone know? How do we know the sun will come up again tomorrow? How do we know we are in love? How do we know the leaves are green in the spring, change colors in the fall, die and go away and the winter and then do it all over again? That’s how I know.
Because when we were the last two walking out of the stadium, and he helped me carry the equipment to my car, I took a look over my shoulder and the saw the smile on his face, and those omniscient cranes illuminated in the background, and even though there were the San Pedro sirens howling not so far away in the distance, there was the sound of stillness. You know what that is—when your breath is so linked up with the air of the night and the jaw relaxes so much so that you can truly hear yourself think. And what you hear is nothing but the love we have for life because in that moment you realize there is nothing that is important except the love God gives to us—the love of family, friends, nature…it can happen anywhere when the wind takes a break. And that is our sign to listen.
There is no wind to obscure the truth and so we know that it is impossible to ignore forgiveness, otherwise it would not be possible to truly smile on a night like this. So even when those who have hurt you or maybe still do exist somewhere, on a night like tonight, they have to be forgiven, too, or else the harmony of the night will shatter.
If every night was like this, we would surely reside in Heaven already. The soft Christmas lights guide us through neighborhoods and remind us to put our differences aside. The sound of the ocean nearby is eternal, just like God’s love for us. The view atop the hill reminds us how small we are as individuals, but how vast and beautiful we are when we love. And the stars above us glimmer in appreciation.
The feel of the grass at night when there is no dew is something to behold. It is cold, but not too so, and it is crisp, but not piercingly. It is comfort. I knew we had to walk off at some point, but I delayed for just that extra second, and I think those extra seconds in life make all the difference. They are unique and don’t register in the calculated flow of time. They are unaccounted for except by Witness and therefore need to be shared and sought. They are magical and proof that we are not alone. These are the ones we can always go back to when we are hurt, when we are lonely, so that we might not be lonely anymore. These moments fill our hearts…usually they are secretive moments that others would not understand unless we put them in movies we secretly believe in.
Our team has been working hard this year and deserves the credit for this, for advancing to the finals, for playing hurt…and my heart thanks them. God has blessed us with talent and a fun-loving spirit and a desire to do well, and we are grateful. We can move on from the setbacks and understand that competition is competition and losses are not life-ending. But when we are touched by victory it is time to celebrate—time to celebrate the goodness of God and the love of family.
The heart will feel a void if we only take joy in individual accomplishments. I have learned through sports that the group process makes destinations so much more fun. And so when we support each other and take joy in the team/group/family achievements, there is the tranquil exuberance of the heart filled with God’s love for us that grows when we love each other and celebrate for each other.
And there is nothing like nostalgia—the roots of life—to light the spark within so that on these special nights when the air is still, the fire burns so brightly.
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