This past weekend my son and I went to see the Atlanta Braves play at Turner Field. For a nine year old boy who was seeing his first major league game, going to a huge city for the first time, being one of 50,000 for the first time this was a lot to take in.
Doing stuff like this, I think, is how dads remember what it’s like to be a son – my favorite game on a beautiful field of dreams shared with the most special boy in the world to me. Why did I feel like my inner kid was being fed?
It wasn’t just the experience of our being at a major league game that made the little boy in me leap with glee. Seeing the little things about baseball once again – the homerun, the bunt, the steal, the strike out, the double play, yada yada – for the five hundredth time seeing again the little deeds of baseball that make me feel it is a game like no other. (or as George Will might say: “unlike” )
There is another athletic deed we saw. We saw the sacrifice fly. Atlanta, bottom of the 5th, McLouth got on first. Gonzalez up next hits the ball in the air. It is caught. He’s out, but McLouth is able to advance to second base putting him in scoring position. Gonzalez was serving his team by sacrificing for his team. That’s the way it’s supposed to work and that’s good.
Which brings me to Carol Custer. She passed into the Presence of her Lord on October 10th. Her earthly journey, 77 years long, had ended. As C. S. Lewis said she is now “on holiday.”
She was the loyal wife of Steward Custer, our Pastor Emeritus at Trinity. Mrs. Custer wasn’t a homerun hitter, if you know what I mean. No flashing lights or fireworks. Her life was all about “the sacrifice fly.” She served by sacrificing. (Is it possible to really serve others without sacrificing?)
A few months ago I was surprised to see she had set up a Facebook page. Surprised, but “awesome” I thought. So after years – decades – of going to the same church marknkristi finally became Mrs. Custer’s friends. Like most curious animals I took a look at her FB page – in particular her info page.