Hey Big Guy!
I wrote this little ditty a 9 years ago to cheer you up after a tough all-star baseball game, but I didn’t give it to you. But like they say “Better late than never.” I think Mindy can relate to this too.
All-star sounds great! But it isn’t always a reward. Expectations are high! Just because you got a hit 2 out of 3 times in your league everyone expects those same stats in the All-star tournaments. But we forget our All-stars are playing other all-stars and it isn’t possible to accomplish the same numbers as you did in the regular season. That doesn’t make you lesser player it’s just the game is played on a higher level now. Now you are facing a pitcher who throws harder than anything you’ve faced all year. and finally when this monster has finished throwing what looks like aspirin tablets at you they replace him with someone who throws harder and if you can believe it even uglier. We haven’t even mentioned this is your third game today in 95 degree heat on a field of dirt that reflects the sun back at you giving you a double dose of heat. That alone would be enough, but now we add those parents from the opposing team who for some reason feel they know all about you and proceed to tell everyone in the loudest voice that you aren’t going to swing and if you did you wouldn’t be able to hit it anyway. There are also other comments about your body shape and size, which doesn’t seem right coming from a women who will need the help of 2 very strong men to get her bottom out of that lawn chair that is near collapse anyway. But at least you have your fans to cheer you on. Your Father is right there against the fence behind you reminding you to keep your bat still, your weight on your back foot, your elbow up, your eyes on the ball, knees bent, chin tucked, and don’t forget to hit it a mile. Your Mother is of course there too under her umbrella wondering why the coach chose such a dreadful color for the uniforms. Doesn’t he know orange doesn’t go with your eyes or complexion? And how is she ever going to get the mustard stain out of that white jersey. And if you slide again on the grass you’ll have to scrub those grass stains yourself. Well now you step to the plate and the umpire says, “this is my world and if you even look like you don’t agree with my calls I’ll feed you to the large lady in the lawn chair and from the size of her mouth she could eat you in one bite.” So you stand there all alone except for the umpire who woke up on the wrong side of the world this morning, a pitcher who threw four pitches in warm ups over everyone’s head and poked a large hole in the backstop. And we haven’t even mentioned the catcher crouching right behind you spitting what you can only hope are sunflower seeds on your new cleats. Not to mention he smells like his uniform had been stuffed in his shoes between games. You look at your third base coach and he’s flashing you signs you don’t understand and you look at your first base coach for help and he isn’t looking at you because that angle would ruin his tan. So you take a deep breath and get in the stance that 3 coaches and your father have independently developed for you that make it impossible to swing let alone see the pitcher with both eyes. Now all you have to do is hit a small ball coming at you at the speed of light from a rather large boy whose two eyes never seem to be looking in the same direction. As he delivers the first pitch you hear the large lady yell that your team should be sponsored by Kentucky Fried Chicken with players like you. Your father is screaming to “don’t step in the bucket”, the third base coach is screaming “watch the changeup.” The first base coach is screaming at someone who has put up an umbrella and is blocking his rays. Your Mother is yelling at you because your shirt isn’t perfectly tucked. The catcher doesn’t say a word but some awful noise and smell is coming from his direction. Here’s the pitch should you swing? Is it a strike? Is it a curve? Is it a fastball or changeup? Is it too high or low? Is your stance right? Yes! It is perfect! And you start your swing but hold up because the ball is already on the way back to the pitcher for the second pitch. Isn’t this fun?
I’m sorry I’m 9 years late with this but missionary work can be the same way. Everyone wants to help and they mean well. Satan has lots of helpers in lawn chairs. But you have to do what you do best and only listen to your coach (your Mission President) and the team owner (Heavenly Father).The Spirit will tell you when to swing. You aren’t going to hit every pitch, but when you do connect there isn’t a feeling like it. And don’t worry about me I’m there for you too, if the sun is just right. We love you and are very proud of you. So get back in the box and enjoy the last few innings you have left.
Love and handshakes,
Your #1 fan (That would be me “Dad”)
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