I can’t help it; I can’t stop. So many days (so many seasons!) it doesn’t make sense. The days they play the Rangers can be the worst!
And now here we are…exactly one week away from Opening Day and a brand new season! Doug’s Christmas gift this year was tickets to Opening Day; of course that means I get to go, too!
We LOVE the Houston Astros. They are our team – Doug and I love these players and this team! Together we have almost 50 years of memorabilia. He has the ticket to the first game in the Astrodome; I have the ticket to the last. Only our memories exceed our memorabilia.
How can this be? Unmet expectations. Losses when wins make more sense. Talent, character, passion – and so many seasons with very little to show for it, again. Why do I still love the Astros?
Because affections are caught, not taught. My Papaw loved the Astros – and my Papaw loved me. I spent weeks in the summer – the heart of baseball season – with my grandparents. Papaw let me strike the match to light his pipe and invited me to sit beside him and watch the occasionally televised games on their black and white, rabbit-eared television.
When they weren’t on TV, we’d listen together to the radio broadcasts. I miss Milo Hamilton. I miss my Papaw, too. He’d quiz me on day to day batting averages and pitching ERAs; he loved that I always got them right! I knew the stats because it was a way to know my Papaw.
Papaw didn’t teach me to love the Astros; he shared his passion with me. Knowing him meant enjoying baseball. That’s how affections work.
Affections are caught, not taught.
We breathe in what is loved – and we begin to love it, too.
What we love shapes our heart and our lives; we follow and we chase what we love.
I find it comforting that God loves me like I love the Astros. I know – His love is more perfect than mine, but it’s a workable analogy.
His love for me – He can’t help it; He can’t stop. So many days (so many seasons!) it doesn’t make sense. The days I face my closest enemies can be the worst.
And He still loves me. I am His child. His memories of me are from before the beginning of time. His box of memorabilia of my life is quite large – and they are His treasured memories. He already knows the rest of my story.
I daily (sometimes more often) have to remind myself that God doesn’t keep a record of my wins and losses. He knows my talent and my passion and He’s never disappointed when seasons of my life bear little visible fruit. I know He’s never looking to replace me for another daughter who’s more talented, more passionate – or more productive.
Trusting my Father, I am catching His affections, too. I am beginning to love what He loves. He loves people – especially the struggling ones. He loves me.
“Father, let it be that others breathe in Your affections in relationship with me. Thy Kingdom come. Amen.”
Please share a comment that is a treasured memory – what do you love that your Papaw loved?!