I was thinking... - First Baptist Church

I sat in the rain on Thursday evening watching one of the local football teams. I have
always enjoyed high school football; it is one of the few sports left where high drama
and low comedy can meet on the same play, where someone can be a hero one
moment, burying his head in his hands the next. However, I do not enjoy high school
football so much that I am willing to sit through a steady rain to watch it.

No; I was there for a much higher purpose. I was there for halftime, when the band
would take the field and the drill team would take center stage. I was there to watch my
daughter. I (along with the rest of the family) endured a long lightning delay, standing
safely under the bleachers. We watched the local team fall behind early in the game.
We watched the band and the drill team wander back into the stands, dressed in rain
suits, trying to keep dry. My thoughts turned to the possibility that the halftime show
would be interesting, to say the least. I tried to figure out how I was going to pick my
daughter out on the field when all the girls were wearing ponchos with hoods pulled
over their heads. I wondered how long it would take me to dry out once I got home.

Then, the announcement came over the public address system that neither band nor
drill team would perform at halftime. The wife looked at me, said "See ya," and took our
youngest daughter home to finish her homework - a likely story - while I was left to wait
out the game. Our daughter might not drill, but no one said anything about leaving. I
was left to watch a dismal game while listening to the fellow next to me drone on about
how great Oklahoma University football is. All I can say is that when it rains, it pours.

My cell phone rang. On the other end was the daughter. "Dad, are you still in the
stands?" I replied that I was. She said, "I'm at the concession stand. They said we could
go home." With a "gotta go," I left the OU fan in mid-sentence. I can't say for sure, but I
think I saw the moon peek through the clouds. What I can say is that my daughter called
on me, and I responded.

Isn't that the way it is with parents and children? We will endure all sorts of indignities to
watch them perform, cheer them on, rejoice in their victories, join them in their sorrows.
When they call, we answer. When they need us, we go. If we will do that for our
children, how much more will our heavenly father do for us?

Blessings, Sam