We spent our weekend as we do most other weekends, relaxing by the side of the pool, sipping teamonade and discussing the political manuverings going on in Wisconson.
We didn't really because,
1. We don't have a pool.
2. It was too cold to sit by a pool even if we had one.
3. Right now, I unfortunately don't know enough about politics in Wisconson to get me a slice of cheese.
4. Teamonade is not Diet Coke so why would I drink it?
Instead, we watched a few sporting events. Olivia had a soccer game at 9 am on Saturday morning which would have been fine if it weren't 40 degrees outside and somehow, even if it's not all that uncomfortable in your backyard, once you hit that soccer field sideline, the winds amp up to about 150 mph. It's a phenomenon we cannot explain.
I watched most of her game through the chainlink fence while sitting in my car with my coffee and two little people who had worn shorts instead of following mommy's instruction to dress warm. I've never been more thankful for their disobedience.
Then Saturday and Sunday afternoons, we watched Graham's basketball team win their playoff game and then go on to win their division championship.
Graham has loved basketball more than anything this season and begs Dea to take him to shoot baskets almost everyday. Which, that sweet 19 year old boy does almost without fail. He's helped him with his shot, his lay-up, and his rebound.
My friend Michelle captured this shot while I was trying to pursuade Sadie that she didn't actually have to go to the bathroom right then.
When he grabs the ball, makes a fastbreak down the entire length of the court, and makes a layup, it's hard to believe this, agile nine year old who's taller than almost his whole class was once an itty-bitty baby, born too early, hooked up to all kinds of tubes and wires in the neonatal intensive care unit at Baylor.
I was sick as a dog for a good part of my pregnancy with a fever we couldn't kick. Finally, one Saturday afternoon in February, my doctor went with his gut and took Graham. After he was born and wisked off to the NICU, Dr. Wright found a clean, tight knot in the ambilical cord. A few more days and Graham could have died.
Now, he's a machine. And a prayer warrior. He remembers to pray for things I've long forgotten and came up several times to me Sunday, before the Championship game, and asked me to pray - that his nerves wouldn't get the best of him. I did, and I told him again about the day he was born. And how God has had his hand on him even before he breathed one breath of air. How perfectly timed his birth was and how the Lord had protected him from harm. How He is the Author and Perfector of his faith, and not one hair can fall from his head without the approval of his Heavenly Father.
And as his little arms were still hugging me tight, I also told him that when this game was over, and our season was finished, and he had played for the glory of the Lord, that we were gonna burn his basketball shoes because, standing that close to him, the smell was making my eyes water.