What I Learned in February

1. Groundhog Day has its origin in Germany, where hedgehogs were thought to be able to predict winter. It's linked to Candlemas Day, when candles were handed out; the length of the candle was thought to correspond with how much longer winter would last. Groundhogs were more common than hedgehogs. And who knew there were other groundhogs other than Phil in Punxsutawney?
http://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/first-groundhog-day
This year, Phil said a short winter but I'm pretty sure he lied.


2. There is more to life than basketball.
I knew this, of course, but because of family events this basketball season, I've been reminded of this.
As much as Wallace and I love basketball, family means more... as it should.
But I still love basketball.


3. As much as I dislike it at times, I have to exercise every day.  I hit a rough patch this month, going four or five days in a row without exercise, and the scales caught up with me. Not a major gain... but enough to know that I can't slip back into that habit.
And, y'all... once I get the exercise in, I'm always glad that I did. I feel better. I sleep better. I think better.


4. A cinquain poem is a five line poem that doesn't rhyme and describes a noun. And I'm not a poet, and to be honest, I don't even enjoy reading poetry... except some Emily Dickinson. I love me some Emily Dickinson.


5. I hate pantyhose. I knew this, too... as evidenced by the fact that I had to go to Walmart to buy a pair for the funeral... but after sitting in them for less than 30 minutes I remembered why I hated them... and then I really remembered when I had to use the restroom.


6. People will not always remember what you said or did, but they will always remember how you make them feel. This quote was attributed to Maya Angelou, but I was never more aware of it's impact as last week during Uncle Dennis's funeral arrangements. Time and time again people filed past telling us how he had impacted their lives... and it made me want to be a better person.

7. This next generation is ok. Looking at society, and our world in general, sometimes I'm a little scared. I know I don't have to be scared, because God's got a plan and He's ultimately in control, but the lack of morals unsettles me at times. Yesterday, though, as I watched Kami and 800+ of her peers wind down their 24 hours of dancing for pediatric cancer at Memorial Coliseum, and thought of the genuine hard work and effort that goes into raising over $1.6 million dollars, I'm reminded that each generation, though different, leaves it's own mark. The compassion and drive those kids demonstrate left me teary-eyed. They are a smart group, overall. And our world will be a better place because of their enthusiasm.

To My Seniors

In December, it seems like it is forever away.

The season is long and the games are every night... and if we're not playing, we're watching a game or there is practice.

My schedule goes out the window, my car is full of fast food bags, and by the end of February I have clothes piled up in laundry baskets, causing me to forget what clothes I even own... especially if they aren't blue and white.

And then it comes... this week that we're facing, and it seems like just yesterday it was summer ball.

I love tournament time, but at the same time I hate it.

I'm too old for being nervous... too old for not knowing the outcome of the game, and with so much riding on each game, that win or go home...

Well, it's too much for me to handle sometimes.

I KNOW it's just a game, but at my house it's so much more.

Tournament time makes you realize that there is a group of girls, special girls, who may never be on the floor again together. And, really, that is just a reflection of life, because it's full of ups and downs and uncertainties, and part of life is learning how to roll with the punches.

If I've learned anything the last two months, it's just that... life is short and to be appreciated. To say that I've been downright distracted this season would be an understatement. There have been nights when in all honesty, I really didn't want to be in a gym. Then there were nights when those girls on the court were my saving grace, when a tight ballgame gave me breathing room and allowed me to not think about my Uncle's cancer diagnosis or my Papaw being in the nursing home or my Dad's grief as he tried to process it all.

Since I missed Senior Night, I just want to take a few minutes this eve before Regional tournament and give my own personal shout-out to three special young ladies. These girls are like family. You can't help for it to be like that, when you spend as much time with one another as we do. They take up for me when Wallace gives me a hard time, and fight with Caleb like a brother. As a coach's wife, I don't take lightly the blessing I have received in my "daughters".

And every year I say I love this group of girls. Every girl that I've ever had the privilege to watch on the court has been different, but they are still my girls.

Kacey is a force to be reckoned with. She is not afraid to drive to the basket, but she'd just as soon put a three in your eye. She's battled injury after injury in her career, but always bounces back. She's played through pain and discomfort and shown true heart. . Gameday tradition involves a pic with Caleb. I think they have more selfies than we can count.

Then there's Kaylea. Kaylea is an inside player that works hard under the goal.  When she decides she wants to score under the basket, there's not too many players who can stop her. I've enjoyed watching her mature as a player these last three years. She isn't afraid to try new things, either... this year, as a Senior, she played volleyball for the first time and didn't just excel- she dominated!  Kaylea is smart, sometimes opinionated (which I love!), and is funny, too. I have no doubt that she'll do whatever she wants in life.

 (Photo by Brendan Miller)

(Photo by Belita, Kaylea's Mom)

(photo by Brendon Miller)
And then there is Amanda. Amanda makes me smile. You always know where you stand with Amanda. She either has a smile on her face... or watch out. She's a beast underneath the basket. She can also  argue with the best of them and usually backs up her argument with sound logic. She sat out last year and I'm so glad she decided to play this year. She brings her own spark to the team.

 (Photo by Belita Noble)

 (Photo by Brendon Miller)

To these Seniors-
The world is at your fingertips. You can do anything you want in life. I have no doubt that success is yours for the taking. Dream big, and never let anyone tell you that you can't do something (unless it's something that you shouldn't be doing in the first place!)

I expect big things out of you. You've already proven you're smart. Your sassiness will be a credit when people try to push you around (which they will!) Be stubborn as you head out into that world... but not too stubborn.

Because of you Seniors, I hate to see the season end. Memories made on and off the court are truly cherished forever.

Thanks for keeping Wallace in line, for loving Caleb like a little brother, and for taking my side most of the time! You've accomplished a lot this year, along with your teammates. 14th Region All A Champions. 55th District Champions. A 20 win regular season. Somehow making Wallace look good enough to get 14th Region Coach of the Year.

But it ain't over. I'd love to make a trek to Newport for a state tourney bid. Keep doing what you do. Hustle. Show heart. Work together. Dig in deep.

And let's end this year with a bang.

Love y'all! 

Not a Civil War

Let me preface this post by saying that some of you may find this as a shock when you read it... but the last couple of years I've learned a lot about perspective.

I love high school basketball. If you know anything about me, you know this is true. Football is wonderful, volleyball is great, but high school basketball, especially during tournament time, is my favorite time of the year.

I love Breathitt High School. I've literally been cheering for 36 years. My Mom, to me, is the heart and soul of Bobcat blue. Through the years, because I didn't want to get a divorce, I've donned maroon and white and purple and gold, but I'm not going to lie and say that I didn't still love Breathitt. (And I cheered just as hard for those teams. In fact, I've occasionally been known to yell out the wrong mascot... like when Owsley was playing Jackson and Wallace was at Jackson and I yelled "Go Owls". Thankfully, no one but my Aunt Nora heard me!)

Last night, I sat in the pep section at the Breathitt vs. Jackson game. The prize was big... a 55th District Championship. I sat in the pep section because Wallace wanted to be in the pep section. First, because he loves those kids and they had supported him the night before. Secondly, a big game like this is bound to get dirty, and he wanted to be there to stop it before it did so. And I was extremely proud of our kids. There were no ugly chants. Not a lot of foul language. Just kids... being kids. Which is exactly how it should be.

And y'all, I cheered... because it's what I do. I'm not lying when I say that I can't go to a game and NOT cheer. I cheer for my Bobcats and Ladycats, and sometimes when I go on scouting trips with Wallace I HAVE TO SIT ON MY HANDS so I don't cheer for kids like Maci Gibson and Whitney Creech and Hannah Cash and Lydia McIntosh (because that really doesn't shine well for an opposing coach's wife to cheer on another team. Wallace even told me once, "You can't cheer them on, because what will the other team think?") And that's the beauty of high school basketball... fans cheering on their teams.

Anyway, it was a great game, last night. Great atmosphere. Packed house. Signs up everywhere. Our cheerleaders were loud and so were theirs. Both end zones were full.

And at the end of the game, Jackson won. They won fair and square. There was no cheating, no undue fouls. May I say this? There will ALWAYS be people who blame it on the referees. A lot of the times, I'm that person... but last night it wasn't.

It was a game that you loved if you were a true high school basketball fan.

It's not fun being the losing team. It's not fun watching the other team cut the nets. There is no celebration in runner-up, even though your season isn't over yet. So, Breathitt's fans filed out of the gym (I'd like to point out that the smaller crowd we had the night before didn't even stay to watch their own team cut the nets, but, as Caleb would say, that's none of my business).

I was happy for Coach Back and Coach Turner and Coach Howard.

Not happy because we had lost... but, you see, as I've gotten older, my perspective has changed somewhat.

I'm learning that to cheer for your team doesn't necessarily mean that you're cheering against somebody else (I have not, nor do I think I will ever, get to the point where I have that perspective for Knott Co. Or Belfry in football... but that's a whole other story).

The thing about high school athletics, if you're involved in any way, is that it truly is something that you have to put your heart and soul into. Endless hours of practice, even in the off-season. Scouting trips and late nights for those coaches who can't get a loss out of their head and are always looking to the next game.

On the way home, Caleb and I had a good talk. I've been reiterating this point to him since Jackson beat us earlier in the season. Y'all... at the end of the day, it's just a game. There will be two numbers on the score board, and one will be higher than the other, but the guys on both teams will still be breathing. (And if they aren't, well, that's a whole other problem). Despite how some people in our community choose to act, it's not a Civil War. Caleb has friends on both sides. Last night, he wanted to sit with some friends with Jackson but HE WAS AFRAID SOMEBODY WOULD SAY SOMETHING. He asked me if it was ok if he went and talked with his aunt, for crying out loud.

There is something very wrong with that picture. Since when did we get so obsessed about a basketball game that we forget about community?

As I've reflected about last night, I'd like to say one thing. In many cases, the kids are more mature than the adults.

And we wonder why sometimes our kids act out???

I don't see everything, and a lot of times I leave my blinders on on purpose, but for the most part, I thought last night was a class act by both teams. So many people on social media said that Breathitt had poor sportsmanship... but I really didn't see it. I wasn't there to see someone take down one of their signs. When emotions are high, you will always have something that seems unsportsmanlike... I don't care how well behaved kids try to be. Excitement will make you behave in ways that maybe you might not otherwise, and that's none of my business, either. In the heat of the moment, we often lose our head. That could be a good thing, or a bad thing.

What is my business is the fact that I'm raising a son in this community, and my chief goal as a parent is to teach him to treat everyone with respect. Sometimes it's hard. Y'all, I get mad and want to respond. Sometimes I do, and have to push the delete button.

But at the end of the day, whether you're at the top of the hill or the bottom, whether you bleed blue and white or purple and gold... we don't have to be against one another. I preached it when I was at Jackson with Wallace and I'm preaching it now.

We are one community. There will always be individuals who don't represent that community well, who push for divisiveness and chaos... but it is up to each of us to choose how we will respond. At the end of the day, it's my job to practice peace as much as I can.

Maybe that's turning my head when someone tears down a sign, or scrolling down the newsfeed without responding when someone posts about you on social media. Maybe that's telling someone they did a great job and left their heart on the court.

These people are your neighbors. And it's not a Civil War.

Good luck to all of our 55th District teams. I'll be cheering you on... just not if you're playing Breathitt.

Cinquain

Drawing a blank and I missed yesterday so I'm going back to my handy dandy writing prompt.

I've never been a poet, but I think even I can pull this one off.

A cinquain poem... a five line poem that doesn't rhyme.

Books.
Sad.  Entertaining.
Transporting. Distracting. Connecting.
They're my happy place.
Refuge.

And that, my friends, was harder than you think. 

The Legacy of Great Men

"Life is sure sometimes full of misery."

Wise words from my Papaw, from a heavy heart, to my heavy heart.


This past week, the world lost two of the finest men that I've been privileged to know.  My Uncle JB was a family man, a community man, a man of loyalty and honor and loving God. He loved my Aunt Jo better than life itself, was a wonderful Dad, granddad, and great-grandpa, and a best friend to my Papaw.

And my Uncle Dennis.  I don't know that I have the words to even describe all that he was.

He was a man of great stature, but an even bigger heart. He had a laugh that could shake the walls of a room. He was always willing to help. Always believed the best about people... without being naïve. He knew people could be bad... but he loved them for who they were.

As I've read all of the comments that I've seen on the internet tonight, I realize that what I saw in Dennis were the same things that other people saw in him. He loved, and you knew it. He treated everyone the same. 

One person commented, "I wish I could be more like him." Another, "If we were all more like him, the world would be a better place."  And as a dear family friend put it, "We all have a Dennis-sized hole in our heart."

As early as I can remember, Uncle Dennis was the funny one. He loved to pull pranks. He'd prank call my Grandma and Grandpa on the phone, changing his voice. He had a deadpan sense of humor, so that sometimes you weren't sure if he was joking, but when he could pull one over on you he thoroughly enjoyed it. He loved comedies and wasn't afraid to laugh out loud.

He always had a sense of adventure. He loved to travel and I have so many fond memories of trips with him. He was never lost as long as he had gas, and this would drive my "planning" Dad crazy. We'd drive winding back roads and somehow manage to end up exactly where we were going. Even when we were stuck in a parade in a small town in the middle of nowhere because of a "detour", he kept his cool.

He was our travel guide. He'd hold up his imaginary flag at Disney World or Six Flags or wherever we happened to be, and try to corral us all together.

He loved to fish. One time I can remember begging to go to the pond, and he took me along with them. They packed my tacklebox and tried to convince me to bait my own hook. I didn't go on anymore fishing trips, because "fish don't like noise, and you don't know how to be quiet."

When I didn't make cheerleader my sophomore year, he decided that maybe what we all needed was a shopping trip. We drove to Lexington, and then he decided that maybe we just needed to go on to Florence... so we did.

He wasn't afraid to sled down the biggest hill at Papaw's house, and he would get right out and make snowmen with us, sometimes in short sleeves.

He introduced me to sparklers on hot July nights under the trees at Mamaw Bert's house.

He was patient and allowed me to test drive his Bronco when I was about 14... and didn't even complain when I ended up in the ditch and he had to get us out. I still can hear him saying, calmly, but firmly, "Lauren, listen to me. Lauren, listen to me. Lauren... now next time maybe you'll listen to me."

He lived his life in a quiet, unassuming way (except when he was laughing). He was a behind the scenes type of guy, but he influenced others in the small things.

Family is a funny thing. Sometimes you've got nothing in common except these genes and this common bloodline, but you're forever connected whether you like it or not.

Some of us choose to embrace it.

Some of us avoid it like the plague.

But like it or not, in many ways, our family shapes who we are.

And tonight I can honestly say that in this case, I hope that will be true.

I hope that the legacy that was my great-Uncle JB's... one of service to His Lord and to others and his family and friends... will be mine.

And I hope that even though my personality is nothing like Uncle Dennis's, I will be able to influence others as he has. By accepting them. Loving them. Impacting through small deeds.

Great men don't always change the world through the big and grand.

Truly great men change the world around them, and that small trickle reaches someone else, until generations are affected.

And yes, life is full of misery... but as I was reminded last night, Earth has no sorrow that Heaven can't heal. We're just pilgrims passing on. And tonight, as heavy as my heart is, I don't mourn without hope.

I'm trusting in Jesus... and He'll hold my hand.

Just like He held Uncle Dennis's...

"This would be my prayer dear Lord each day,  To help me do the best I can.  For I need Thy light to guide me day and night  Blessed Jesus hold my hand."

Thank You, Lord, for these who are mine for this short time.

Five Minute Friday: Forget

There are some things we want to forget. Hurts.  Harsh words. Embarrassing moments.

Personally, I would love to forget my asymmetrical hair from the 7th grade, but my family won't let me do so.

The thing about forgetting is... we mostly won't allow ourselves to forget the things we want to. We dwell on them and return to them time and time again.

And because our brains can only focus on so many things, we aren't able to remember the things we need to remember.

The good words, the God moments.

I can remember harsh words spoken to me when I was younger, but when I close my eyes and try to remember certain times, I find that I have forgotten them.

Because I've focused on the wrong thing.

We're told to forget the former things.

Forget them... because He's doing a new thing.

And He doesn't forget...

except our sins.

He knows to focus on the right things.

May we, too, learn to focus on the good, and forget the rest.

It doesn't matter anyway.

Linking up with Five Minute Friday, where we write for five minutes, unedited, on a prompt. This week? Forget...

Content to Complain

Today felt like spring. 

It was a balmy 45 degrees with the sun shining... which felt like 80 degrees compared to the artic tundra we've been living in here in Kentucky.

And then, as I sat in my car waiting for my Mom to meet me to go to a ballgame, I found myself wanting to complain.

The sun was so bright, a foreign object in the sky, and it was giving me a headache. I literally got sick to my stomach and was afraid I was developing a migraine.

And I almost said, "I don't like that sunshine."

Because I'm like that a lot.

I complain about the very circumstances that I've longed for.

I'm not very good at being content.

Paul tells us that being content is something we can learn. We can choose.

In any circumstance.

And I'm counting it as progress that I at least noticed that I was getting ready to complain.

And progress counts for something =)