Hung out with one of our sons tonight watching his baseball game. Something I know I didn’t see from my dad. It’s a treat for me that I get to do these things with our kids. Being a dad trumps so many other things. It’s a gift from God to be able to share with my wife in the role of parenting. Tonight, the boy got a solid outfield hit and got someone out on a throw he made from right field to second base which ended the inning. Made me proud. On the way home we had a good talk about the game and how he felt really good about what he contributed to the game. He says, “I really needed that hit, because he’s had a slow season at the plate. As we talked some more, the topic came up about who got the game ball AGAIN. Kids at this level are so used to getting a game ball from the younger leagues that it becomes the “ata boy,” of the day. I sensed his frustration about how some of the same kids keep getting game balls, some have gotten them at least twice, maybe even three times. And in the coaches defense, the game ball is sometimes the accolade a boy needs to encourage a kid. So, don’t get me wrong, I don’t have a problem with the game ball concept for now. Anyways, as I drove my boy home and as my heart broke as I listened to his frustration of, “how does one earn a game ball,” my fatherly words of wisdom that flowed from my mouth, sounded like cheese whiz on crackers. We talked about the “ata boys and accolades of life” and how when God sends you an ”ata boy,” it comes when you at least expect it. And my boys response to my cheese whiz? “Just like that hit I got.”

I think he got it.