Everybody Wins

10257811_10154107731240024_1083842353019193685_nThis Spring was the first year our oldest has played baseball.  I won’t lie, he didn’t even get on plate until the final game of the season.  Once, he ran for the ball but passed through a patch of pricklies on the way.  Having a seat in far left field, he began to pick the tiny cacti from his clothes – the ball sitting in the grass not 5 feet away – as the other team’s players continued around the bases.  You should’ve felt the rage from the stands: “WHAT IS HE DOING?!“… but he wasn’t concerned.  After the game – not oblivious but totally unconcerned with the mishap – he spread encouragement among all of the players, joyfully congratulating the other team, & doting compliments on all of his teammates.  He wasn’t concerned that they’d lost, & honestly I wasn’t too concerned either – he played his best & enjoyed it, & that was a “win” in and of itself.

Deep down in my gut I feel we all should seriously want to see EVERYONE win.  If we are all God’s images – no matter how tainted or broken – it at least means that we are a reflection of who He is: our passions, our gifts, our callings – even when misdirected – are important.  If you are important to God – important enough for God-with-skin-On to lay down His LIFE for – then you’re important to me, & if you’re important to me, what is important to you is important to me.

Can you imagine a world where no one rejoices in another’s failure, loss, or rejection? Even while enjoying sports, cheering for our team, we could be offering a shout-out the competition whenever they do something notable.

Friend & fellow blogger ANGIE SMITH MILLER told this story;
When I was in junior high school, I sat near a classmate’s father at a basketball game in which his youngest son was playing. When our team scored, he stood up, lifted his arms over his head, and cheered. A few minutes later when the other team scored, he did the same thing. Mr. Flynn saw my quizzical look and said, “I’m for everybody!” I have never forgotten that.

In 1995 my college house-mates in the Elliot St. house hosted a Poetry Slam by that genre’s founder, Marc Kelly Smith.  I’ll never forget his passionate delivery of “Pull the next one Up”, as he climbed a chair in the middle of our living room – his hand reaching down to me.  Watch this brilliant delivery…


May I consistently be someone who – whenever I take a step forward & upward – reaches down, offers a hand, & helps the next one up.

Is it too much to ask for everyone to win?

So be it. Yes.



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