Bloom Where You Are Planted
Posted on Aug 8, 2011

I was standing in my kitchen the other day, seemingly no different than any other day of my life. My wife, Lisa, was chatting on the phone with a dear friend of hers and I was busy returning work related emails and responding to people on twitter as I’m apt to do. When she hung up the phone, without so much as lifting an eyebrow from the iridescent screen, I casually asked who she was speaking with. Not because I was interested, truth be told I was too selfishly engrossed with my stuff, I was just being polite, nosy, or both.

She told me who she had just hung up with and from behind my laptop I uttered, “oh that’s nice,” hoping that would suffice and we’d both go about our days without incident. Thousand one, thousand two, almost clear I thought. “I just had the most interesting conversation,” she said, which as any married man knows is code for: shut the laptop, set aside the cell phone, and remove all objects within eyesight that might distract you from paying attention to the conversation we’re about to have!

Lisa told me that her and her girlfriend talked about the kids, who they are, who they’re becoming, what purpose God has in store for them. I sat and listened, tail tucked firmly between my legs trying hard to stay on topic and not let my mind wander back to what I had been working on. As we furthered the discussion she told me that her friends dad had a saying, a family mantra if you will…“Bloom where you’re planted!”

Four little words, such a simple concept, but as powerful as the oceans tide. I’m not sure about you, but if you’re anything like me, it’s easy to look at other people, to see their success, their good fortune, their blessings, and forget about your own. We look at our neighbors homes, cars, jobs, talents, community involvement, and everything else we covet and we become intimidated. We shut the door on life and toss away the key, convincing ourselves that we are some how inadequate, that we can’t make a difference…. Oh how wrong we are!

I remember going to Victory Bible Camp every summer as a young boy. We used to sing a song there everyday, “This Little Light of Mine.” Have you heard it? Do you remember it?

“This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, oh this little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine!”

“Hide it under a rock, oh no! I’m gonna let it shine, said hide it under a rock oh no I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine all the time!”

Matthew 28 verse 19-20 gives us a glimpse into the heart of God, a plan for us known as the Great Commission:
(19)- Therefore go make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Sprit,
(20)- teaching them to obey all I have commended you. And remember, I am always with you, even to the end of the age.

I realize it sounds intimidating, a bit overwhelming. Make disciples of all nations…how can I make a difference in all nations?

Easy…All Nations starts at your front door! Open the door, walk outside and fix your eyes on the fertile soil Gods placed in front of you and start sowing seeds. Neighbors, the clerk at the grocery store, Starbucks, the dry cleaner, whoever crosses the path of your daily grind. Life beats all of us down, it’s hard, and we all can use a word of encouragement, a kind smile, and the love of Christ!

You don’t have to pack your bags to be a missionary… Let that little light shine “Bloom where you’re planted!”

Who do you want to be?
Posted on Jul 20, 2011

There is a question that I’m willing to bet we’ve all been asked or that we have all asked someone at some point in our lives.
What do you want to be when you grow up?

Come on be honest…you’ve asked your kids that haven’t you? It’s always thrown out at the dinner table or at family gatherings and in my mind it’s a bogus question! I hate that question with the white hot intensity of 1000 suns and refused to pose it to my children.

Why you ask? Well I suppose it goes back to when I was playing in the NFL and the kids were just little cherubs. As a player you find yourself at several public functions over the course of the season and off-season. Charity golf outings, dinner auctions, and holiday parties. Inevitably some stuffy corporate type would always pose this question: Football won’t last forever…what are your plans when it’s done? Translation: What do you want to be when you grow up? I’m sure most of the people who asked the question had good intentions but it always came off as though they were looking down their noses at me. I always excused myself from the conversation feeling less than adequate, ashamed that I didn’t have a plan, heck, I was just trying to keep my head above water, trying to be the best player that I could be. After the umpteenth million time that question was posed to me I was struck with this thought…WHO CARES! Does it really matter what line of work I get into when football comes to an end? From that point forward whenever a suit would ask me the question…What are you gonna do when football comes to an end? I was quick with a response…Why? Are you offering me a job? Would you like me to put a resume together? That would always bring that conversation to a screeching halt.

My revelation was this…It matters not what you do for work, as long as your making an honest living and doing it to the best of your ability. I truly believe we are all created wonderfully different, with unique skills and talents and our Heavenly father isn’t worried or concerned with what line of work we choose. What our heavenly father is concerned with is who we are and how we are affecting the world that we’ve been placed in.

That’s why I never asked my kids what they want to be when they grew up, because in the overall scheme of things it doesn’t matter…

Who do you want to be when you grow up?

What do you want to stand for when you grow up?

How do you want to treat the people you come in contact with?

These are the types of questions we focused on as a family. The way I look at it is the “what” is gonna take care of itself, the “who” is a lifetime of work! My kids by no means are perfect and we all need work but I’m proud of the people they have become, and that matters far more to me then what they do as a form of employment. As my father used to say to me, Mark, there is no right way to do something wrong. Thanks dad that advice has helped mold me and helped me mold the next generation!

Encouragement
Posted on Jul 1, 2011

Life is hard. I mean really hard, and regardless of where we find ourselves on the journey all of us can use a little encouragement. I found some encouragement in of all places, a chain email. Now I am not a huge fan of the chain email, and truth be told I rarely ever forward them along. I hate the way many promise God’s blessing if only we take the time to share that email with 12 or so friends. This just in…God doesn’t use email, he’s ubiquitous, he doesn’t need it. God can speak directly to our hearts without having to hit send! If I do happen to send the chain email down the line I usually delete the promise portion at the end. Lets face it if your only motivation to pass something inspiring along is so you can be blessed, then that’s missing the point? Do you really think God is going to honor that?

So about a month ago I received an email that touched my heart and I decided to share it with a few friends of mine. One of the friends I chose to share the email with is a co-worker at ESPN that I only talk to a few times a year. I’m not sure why he was on my mind but he was, so I forwarded him this email and what transpired was nothing short of miraculous.

The chain email reads:
It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80′s arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb. He said he was in a hurry as he had an appointment at 9:00 am.

I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would to able to see him. I saw him looking at his watch and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound. On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress his wound.

While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor’s appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry. The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife. I inquired as to her health.

He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzheimer’s disease. As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late. He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now. I was surprised, and asked him, “And you still go every morning, even though she doesn’t know who you are?”
He smiled as he patted my hand and said, “She doesn’t know me, but I still know who she is.”

I had to hold back tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm, and thought, “That is the kind of love I want in my life.”

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is an acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

Shortly after hitting send I received a this response from my co-worker at ESPN:

“Bro.. you just changed my Tuesday plans by sending me this… I’m now going to drive to NY after work tomorrow to see a very special relative who hasn’t known who I am in 3 years.. even 5 minutes to say a prayer by her side will be enough.. thanks for sharing.. you make many lives better.”

This is where the story gets great.
Wednesday night I received a phone call from my friend. I could hear the emotion and exhaustion in his voice. “Thank you,” he said in a voice that slightly quivered, “thank you. “You see,” he went on, “I have a 94 year old grandmother who is gravely ill. She suffers from Alzheimer’s and hasn’t recognized her family for years. My travel schedule is such that I decided that I wasn’t going to take the 2 hour drive to see her as she wouldn’t recognize me anyhow, but then I opened your email! When I got to the Hospital she was resting comfortably, so I simply sat quietly praying. Eventually I pulled my chair up beside her and held her hand and prayed and talked to her just like I’m speaking with you. While I was praying and talking my grandmother opened her eyes, she did not speak, she simply smiled her warm smile as she looked at me, her eyes thanking me as if she had been eagerly awaiting my arrival, then drifted back to sleep. I decided to setup camp in her room as it was late and I had a long drive that would be easier with a few hours of sleep and daylight! My Grandmother passed away just a few short hours after she opened he eyes one last time at 4 am. Thank you.”

Sometimes all it takes is a nudge, the slightest push, just a little bit of encouragement!

Life Lesson #9: There’s no place like home
Posted on Jun 27, 2011

I love baseball. I love everything about it and I do mean everything. I love the fact that baseball is a game steeped in tradition. I love that generation after generation it’s painstakingly marked with the indelible ink of statistics on a score book. I love the fact that regardless of era, we can compare two time Cy Young winner “The Freak” Tim Lincecum to, well Cy Young or that we can sit at our favorite watering hole and argue the home running hitting merits of Babe Ruth, Hank Aaron, and Barry Bonds.

I love the food surrounding baseball. Peanuts, hot dogs, and crackerjacks; I don’t care if I ever come back!

I love the baseball stadiums, each a cathedral, paying homage to the heroes of yesteryear while showcasing the stars of today. I love the grass. Mowed and trimmed with surgical precision beckoning us to get lost in the deep green of the worlds largest emerald. I love the grounds crew, putting on a dance show to the speakers that pound out the beat of YMCA, and yet still managing to manicuring the infield dirt so it plays as smooth as glass!

I love arriving early to the park and watching Batting practice. I love watching infielders gobble up a hard hit grounders just like Pacman gobbling up monsters after he eats the pill that turns them blue! I love the strategic battle between the battery and the hitter.

I love standing in the tunnel, win or lose, waiting for my little boy Daniel emerge from the locker room. I love seeing him for the first time in the hall. I love wrapping my arms around him in loves warm embrace, kissing him on the cheek, and telling him how much I love him! I love the pride I feel about his accomplishments, and that it makes me feel like playing in the NFL and winning Super Bowls were insignificant. I love being at the game with my girls, seeing them burst with unblemished pride in their brothers accomplishments. I love that in-spite of all the disappointment, setbacks, and injuries, he still had the balls to keep fighting for his dream!

Lastly, I love that baseball isn’t football!

Baseball has had such a huge influence on our family. There isn’t a game that I watch that doesn’t bring back memories, some great, some not so great, but for me it’s a constant reminder of how richly God has blessed me with the only thing that really matters in life… my family. I watch baseball and remember the long car rides, three kids in the back bickering with one another and every 10 minutes asking how much further we had. I remember the walk-off homers and the no hitters. I also remember Daniels last high school pitch, the one that shredded his ulnar collateral ligament and the sick feeling I had watching my son on the mound in pain while 20 or so pro-scouts packed their radar guns and left the game.

As a family we’ve sat in the stands and watched Daniel strike out the side, greeted by a cacophony of cheers and high fives and we’ve seen him walk the bases loaded and get yanked in disgust by his manager. We’ve heard the roar of the crowd in affirmation of a job well done, and heard the boo’s and jeers that accompany a lousy outing. I’ve witnessed with pride my wife and daughters, with tears of anger, get in the face of a nasty hecklers, defending a son, a brother, and I’ve seen them celebrate with perfect strangers over a job well done!

When the game has ended, the lights turned out, all the autographs have been signed, and the din of the crowd no more than a whisper. Win or lose the only people left are family members reminding all that’s there’s no place like home!

Life Lesson #8: Keep Your Eye on the Ball
Posted on May 12, 2011

Isn’t it amazing how something so elementary can be so difficult?

I’ve never played baseball so I’ve never stepped into the batter’s box. Never had the sensation of digging my spikes into the dirt, hoping that the added traction might be the difference between a routine can-of-corn and a walk-off home run.

I’ve never honed in on the baseball as it leaves the pitcher’s hand with the same laser focus of a majestic bald eagle swooping down from on high to kill its prey. I’ve never felt the elation of watching the ball leave the yard after punishing it off the end of the bat. And I’ve never experienced the dejection of the long walk back to the dugout after a swing that found no purchase.
But I know from my years of playing football that the key to success in any game is getting good at the basics. So as a little league coach there was never an at-bat that passed in which I didn’t remind my players of the fundamentals. Keep an eye on the ball. Keep your head in it. Watch it all the way to the bat. Don’t pull your head. The clichés are as limitless as they are true.

It’s interesting how baseball mimics life. How often do you find yourself taking your eye off the ball? Do you lose focus on the task at hand? Are you stumbling through life not quite sure what the task even is?

I remember attending an event when I was a young player for the Washington Redskins. Legendary college football coach Lou Holtz was the keynote speaker. He said that when he was the head coach at Notre Dame he would give each of his players a laminated card to carry with them in their wallets. On that card was a three-letter word that formed a simple, yet powerful acronym to help his players focus—WIN.

What’s Important Now

It’s timeless advice. With the advent of Facebook, Twitter and all of the other mindless distractions that consume our days it’s more relevant now than ever. It seems like I catch myself on a consistent basis wasting time on stuff that in the overall scheme of things doesn’t mean squat. Things that take me away from the task at hand and keep me from achieving my goals.

1 Corinthians 9:24 says: Do you not know that those who run in a race all run, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win!

I may not be an expert on many things, but if I’m in it, well, I’m in it to win it. One thing is for sure—you can’t win if you take your eye off the ball!

Life Lesson#7: Never Take a Called Third Strike
Posted on May 1, 2011

It is amazing to me how one moment can define a person for a lifetime. Say the name Kirk Gibson and you can’t help but hear the melodious voice of Jack Buck saying, “I can’t believe what I just saw!”

It’s still one of the most memorable moments in baseball—the bottom of the ninth inning in game one of the 1988 World Series between the Los Angeles Dodgers and the Oakland Athletics. Dennis Eckersley was on the mound for the A’s, who had a 4-3 lead. Gibson was called on to pitch hit, even though he had injuries to both legs and a stomach virus. He willed himself to the dish.

There were two outs, a runner on second and a full count when Gibson launched one out of the ballpark, clinching the win for the Dodgers. It would be his only at-bat in the entire series, which the Dodgers went on to win in five games.

It’s the stuff that legends are made of.

Kirk Gibson will always be remembered as a hard-nosed, gritty player. But what if a Dodger scout hadn’t told him that Eckersley was sure to throw a backdoor slider to a lefty with a 3-2 count (which he did)? What if he left the bat on his shoulder and took strike three? How would that have changed the public perception of him?

One thing is for sure—had Gibson not taken a hack there wouldn’t be a Kirk Gibson highlight. It would be a Dennis Eckersley highlight.

I spent the better part of a decade coaching my son’s baseball teams and there were few things that were more frustrating than watching a kid take strike three. For those keeping score at home, that’s the dreaded backwards K, the mere thought of which sends quivers down my spine.

Look at the message it sends—I don’t want to be at the dish. I’m paralyzed by fear. For the love of Pete, please let this guy walk me.

With that kind of thinking you can be sure that the batter will wilt as quickly as a parched flower on a hot August afternoon. And when the umpire calls strike 3! he’ll sulk back to the dugout, bat still firmly attached to his shoulder.

You can also be sure that the walk from home plate to the dugout will be a long one. Every eyeball in the stands will be judging him. Their whispers confirming that the pitch was too close to take.

Fear makes cowards of us all.

I’m not sure who coined that phrase but it’s complete garbage. Fear makes cowards of some. What separates the achievers from the non-achievers? Achievers don’t let their fear stop them from trying.

I played 12 seasons in the NFL and truth be told, I was scared stiff every game. What if I can’t block this guy? What if I miss a block and let my team down? What if I make a mistake that costs us the game? I would get myself so worked up and so nervous that I would vomit before every game, including the pre-season. The pre-season!

Think about that. That’s more than 200 games and there wasn’t one in which I didn’t have an intimate rendezvous with the trash can.

Fear is a given. We all experience it. The real question is what do we do with it? Do we let it paralyze us, forever condemning ourselves to a life of sulking back to the dugout, head hung in shame, our bat merely a useless prop? Or, like Kirk Gibson, do we take a hack?

People love to tell you what you can’t accomplish. They love to tell you all of the reasons why you won’t succeed. And when you give up without even trying, they will comfort you, tell you it’s all right, that it’s all for the best. Personally, I think it makes them feel better about their own fears and their own lack of accomplishment.

I say embrace your fear. Let it motivate you to take the bat off your shoulder and swing. Who knows, you just might surprise yourself and hit one out of the park too!