“You’ve
got to be some type of crazy to do something like that,” my grandfather mumbled
at the television. My husband and I looked at each other with knowing eyes. We
were that type of crazy.
It was the week between Christmas
and New Years of 2017. My side of the family was gathered around my
grandparents’ living room watching the very first outdoor hockey game of the
World Juniors Hockey Championship. Canada and the USA had one period left to
battle it out. Over forty thousand spectators sat around Buffalo’s football
stadium to watch the rink down below. It was a blizzard with subzero
temperatures, yet the stands were full—warmed only by the love of the game. I
guess my grandfather’s love of the game wasn’t as deep as theirs.
If my husband and I had the means we
would’ve been there at that very game. The year before, we attended the
tournament in Montreal, walking four kilometers in -24 wind chill to and from
the arena. We had a blast.
I looked to my grandfather, and before I could stop them, the words just stumbled out. “But wouldn’t it be boring if we were all the same?”
It’s not often my eighty-five year old
gramps is rendered speechless.
It got me thinking about the passage in 1
Corinthians. For the body does not
consist of one part but of many. We all play a part in making up Christ’s
body. Those spectators in their parkas were as much of a part of the puzzle as
my grandfather and the rest of us lounging in his temperature controlled home.
Not everyone can write. Not everyone can
sit outside in a blizzard for three hours. That’s okay because that would be
boring.
Often we find it easy to look at someone
and gasp when they tell us they haven’t read a single book in a decade. Or, we
might tsk at another for using the wrong punctuation in a Facebook status. But
here’s the thing. They might be thinking the same thing about us. We are all
some type of crazy.
My reason to write? I believe that the
stories in my head weren’t put there by accident. Someone’s got to get them
onto the page, right? Someone’s got to fill those stadium seats.
Let me go get my toque—it’s game time.
Photo
Source: https://www.facebook.com/pg/WorldJuniors/photos/
" I believe that the stories in my head weren’t put there by accident." This is exactly how I feel, too, Whitney. Thanks for sharing as a guest today. Hugs to that new baby, too!
ReplyDeleteThat was my favourite line too ... " the stories in my head weren't put there by accident." I enjoyed this. Thank you. 😊
ReplyDeleteSome kind of crazy, also makes me think of Paul's reference to the wisdom of God is deemed foolish in the world. It is good to have all kinds of crazy. Thanks for this post!
ReplyDeleteI'm smiling with appreciation of the fact that you and I might not be the same kind of crazy to be in the blustering cold winter appreciating the hockey game, but we are a similar kind of crazy when it comes to our love of, and fussy enjoyment of, reading and writing. And we both are part of the body of Christ. Amen.
ReplyDeleteWe all have different gifts, and God wants us to use these gifts to help others. Some may think that writers like us are crazy to spend our days pounding away on the keyboard, trying to capture the stories in our heads. But God gives us these stories, and He wants us to use them to bring enjoyment and encouragement to those who read them.
ReplyDeleteJust reading this now. I watched that game as well, Whitney but didn't have a "story in my head" to write about it. I enjoyed your story and look forward to the next one!
ReplyDelete