What if each day was a first down
and each conversation a well executed play?
What if forgiveness was called up
like a third string quarterback
and offences were pigskins
with strings attached?
What if what we said
we didn’t mean it,
and if we said we didn’t mean it
everything would be as it was
in the beginning.
No flags thrown.
There would be no riding the pine,
sitting like a judge on the bench.
There would be plays
and grass would be uprooted
and sweat would mix with the dirt.
Spittle would be placed over the speck
in our eyes and we would no longer walk the plank.
What if we were on the same team again
and offense wouldn’t be against each other
and our only defense would be ours, together?
The plays called again from the sideline
and we huddle-up, arms over shoulders.
We are in the back yard lines
set on scrimmage like boys with grass stains
and SpaghettiOs and hot dogs would
sit warm in our super bowls.
Ecclesiastes 4:12 reads
“By yourself you’re unprotected. With a friend you can face the worst. Can you round up a third? A three-stranded rope isn’t easily snapped.” The Message
I like this and the previous post about painting Dad. I remember His paint by number days!
Nice. John, you probably remember much more than I do.
thanks for stopping by Jerry!