Gee, Things Seemed Almost Normal

Yesterday, Sunday almost felt like an normal Sunday past except I didn't attend church but I was 'in' church. In fact, I was 'in' church twice yesterday as I tuned into the Charles Stanley's television service and later checked-out my home church, Grace United Methodist. I believe organized religion supported by physical attendance is important for personal spiritual growth but I've always known it's not the end-all with regards to a close walk with Jesus-Christ.

After lunch, I embraced the gift of a beautiful day that presented temperatures in the upper sixties and a wonderful blue sky complimented by a light breeze. My thirty minute walk felt terrific and the sights and sounds appeared normal. The noise of multiple lawn-mowers and the smell of freshly cut grass foretold the promise of warmer summer days to come. I saw numerous walkers and joggers all paying homage to the social distancing plea. Upon returning to my house, I began some yard chores, which included bush and small tree trimming and some weeding.

It takes about 90-minutes of yard work after a brisk walk to cause this oldtimer to seek a cushioned patio chair and cold beverage...I was successful in that attempt.  While looking out across my freshly mowed backyard I spotted a young father with his son of perhaps seven. They were tossing a frisbee for a spell but soon their activity changed. Dad dropped about a dozen baseballs at his side and the young boy picked up a baseball bat.  After taking some warmup swings the lad assumed his stance and the father began repeating an overhand toss to the boy. The kid was pretty good at tracking the ball. The boy made contact more often that not. You could immediately note that like most young boys learning to hit a baseball, the kid often slowed and stopped the swing follow-through upon  making bat-to-ball contact. Not uncommon with young players. The dad would make comments and demonstrate the follow through frequently.

I suspect after about four rounds of  tossing the dozen baseballs it suddenly happened. The kid swung the bat in a manner continuing his bat-swing 'through' the ball and the crack of the bat reverberated  across the sandlot.  Spontaneously and without forethought I yelled out, "Atta Boy!!!" Oh my God, those were exactly the words my father yelled so many times some 73-years ago; "Atta Boy!" I was quiet for the next several minutes...alone and immersed in deep reflective thought.  Seems that moment occurs often lately. Wonder why?