fired... again

My poor husband. This is the second time he's been fired from coaching. He called me this morning to say that he was called into the AD's office and asked to step down from the 8th grade girls coaching position. Just last Monday the JV girls coach called him into the hallway, saying he wanted to talk to him for a minute. In the hall already was the head girls coach. She asked him if he was going to be cooperative, if he was going to do what she wanted to develop this program. He was completely blind-sided by the entire meeting and just kind of stammered a yes. It was as if she were addressing a potentially disobedient child instead of a seasoned coach with more experience and success than she's ever going to see if she keeps coaching the way she is.

Now this. They're going to keep paying him, and she's going to take over as the 8th grade girls coach and do it for free. He's out because she wants him out. It's all so emasculating.

Where I HAVE to go, where I MUST absolutely go, is the real, true world, "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." ~Eph 6:12

My flesh wants to rail against this ridiculously small, stupid, soul-less, foul-mouthed moron, and my imagination wants to enjoy all means of revenge against her. But that is not where I want to go. That is not how I want to live.

I told Kev to pray for her. He said, "But I don't consider her my enemy." I find that noble. Even in the midst of this, he doesn't want anything but to enjoy some low key basketball (certainly compared to what he's experienced in the past). He doesn't want any enemies, any revenge, any commotion, conflict, or controversy. There's just something about him that she took issue with from Day One, and he did say this day would come. Pray for her. When I pray for people against whom I have an offense, sincerely and over time they become dear to me. I end up caring a great deal about their welfare and well-being, and I cease to link them to that offense. They become lambs as dear to God's heart as I know I am. It is heaven on earth when His all-Love heart meets our loveless times.

For now I will continue to encourage and strengthen him as I can. He is only human, and he struggles with handing trials over once and for all as most of us do. He will rise above this, and it will leave its mark, but this time, I'm praying it does the supernatural work of molding him further into the image of the Lord who saves--and saves and saves us.

But you, O Sovereign LORD,
deal well with me for your name's sake;
out of the goodness of your love, deliver me.

For I am poor and needy,
and my heart is wounded within me. ~Ps. 109:21-22

O, lovely orange

Oh, yea! It's Hoopfest!

Oh, crap, it's Hoopfest.

This is the time of year when our thoughts extend to finances, taxes, the rising cost of living, inner city violence, and global warming. Yep, Spokane's own salute to the street ball tournament that honors the scrappy, the skilled, the wiley, and the willing to risk all for the chance to win-----a t-shirt.

I have a beautiful friend who gets great joy from watching her children play this game. They get a hotel room every year and wring every smidgeon of fun out of the entire weekend. I don't know how to do that.

When I'm downtown, I get completely distracted by wondering at all the young girls with half their clothes on, wanting to eat from every food booth I walk by, getting to the next game on time, remembering who has my cell phone and if I'm supposed to call someone with some important info, remembering where Starbucks is in proximity to my courts, seeing if my clothes are still clean enough to be in public since I'm supposed to be a grown-up, and straining to hit any store with the word "Clearance" or "Sale" visible from the sidewalk. In light of all this significant mental occupation, how am I supposed to concentrate on a game played by whining little girls who cry about getting shoved around in the 90-degree plus heat? And that's just the men's bracket.

This year I'm bringing my mp3 player, an umbrella, a loaded VISA card, and my camera--and I'm keeping my cell phone, thank you very much. Huck, dribble, drive, fake, screen, post up, block out, and use those boards--you are all this wonderful potential blog fodder.