I Never Was a Fan A Tribute to All the Parents who Contribute
I never was a fan—I was so much more. When cheering in the stands, you noticed alright—as every so oft you needed something to quench the thirst worked up. I had your back, your stomach, as well as your feet when shoes were forgotten.
It wasn’t the sidelines on which I stood that defined my love for you, it was the grocery line— along other like-minded—grabbing the goods—just for you. And sure enough, soon after, the car would be dry and one more line was approached at the pump before hitting the road again.
I snatched a morsel or two of the snacks handed you, a time or two. I hoped you wouldn’t notice. If you did, you were polite enough to not mention it— and for this I was most grateful. Popcorn wasn’t the most expensive thing on the menu, so we splurged every so oft in hopes it would carry till we got home—and it did. Phrases like, “Oh, we’ll be home soon,” always held you over and you didn’t think much of it.
We rolled with the punches as we went from the throws of diapers, to sports shoes, to college— all taking a chunk of the budget. We figured it all out because we knew you would and thus, we had your back. You were grateful and for this we were thankful.
Name brand was a no-no—not so much that a splurge a time or two wouldn’t be possible, but there were others in school who never owned the likes of, so we just left it at that. Like your grandpa always taught, “You are no better than anyone else. But nobody else is better than you.” So, teaching that in many forms was part of the gameplan unbeknownst to you. You never went without because we’d hit a garage sale or two and often find next to new. You always thought that would do and for this, I was grateful. Grandma was a hunter of deals. As you thought she was pretty cool, taking part in them was more of an adventure and you actually turned out pretty adventuresome yourself which, no doubt, can be traced back.
Now, you have kiddos of your own, and I can see you are no fan of theirs either, but much, much more. I can all but picture you standing in the grocery line gathering snacks and grabbing the goods on sale to make an adventure out of the deals. Stuff didn’t define you and now, I see, that it doesn’t define our grands and we think that’s grand. And, if it ever does, you are ever so soft to remind them that perhaps they might want to give a toy or two away.
Being a fan goes deep. It goes to the heart of the matter which just happens to be His heart. As He desires all of us to desire all of Him—and He gives us the desires of our hearts by placing them within us (Psalm 37:4), well then, I’m a fan of Him, too. Hats off in tribute to all of the parents who contribute by not only standing in the stands, but in the grocery lines, in the pickup lines, and in the communion lines which builds the communion of saints of which we are all a part of. For this, I am most grateful. Amen.
