Baseball

On the world wide web baseball is defined as, a bat-and-ball game played between two opposing teams who take turns batting and fielding. In my childhood dictionary baseball is defined as, time where the world could not touch us. Snacks, laughter, cushions on the floor, and a TV that was perfectly framed in a mahogany shelf. My current definition of baseball is, the moments I miss the memories of a great man and his granddaughter, Lizzie.

The outfield is so green, you think to yourself as you reach in for another handful of caramel popcorn from the old Christmas tin that Nana repurposed for us. Our team, Pawpaw’s team, is batting at the bottom of each inning. Settling into my seat, I find myself inching closer and closer to him, craving to embody and delight in the game like he did. It’s hard to pinpoint fully or recall all of the moments and memories that he made me feel loved. (He was the world's greatest Pawpaw, the list is endless) But, these moments, this time watching baseball, I knew I was LOVED. The admiration I felt was so tangible it was like experiencing the game up close. Engaging with the smell of the freshly cut grass on the field through the wooden boxed television set, which my Nana decorated with pictures and tiny glass figures.

In the midst of learning to love the game like he did, Pawpaw every so often would look over at me with his beaming, deep-set, warm hearted eyes and say “Lizzie, your Pawpaw and Nana sure do LOVE you.” A phrase that was granted five to a million times a day, but in our adventures of watching baseball it settled upon my heart and into my skin differently. Watching baseball next to a great man, I remember feeling cherished. I trusted what he said. I was loved.

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.” -Omar Khayyam

My endearment for baseball is tied to lessons learned and some pretty brilliant humans in my life. My sister Suzanne, who I will introduce later, Kelly, my bosom buddy, and my dearest Pawpaw.

My Pawpaw was an avid baseball fan. So much so, that his chair was perfectly situated front and center to the mahogany framed TV, literally arms length. His posture of choice was in a maroon cushioned chair with buttons situated in rows and columns on the back. The chair made an ideal curve for his back and he would casually lean to the left side as his eyes drifted in and out from a long day. Baseball is not a season in the Lackey household, it is a year round watched and celebrated sport.

As my college classes for undergrad came to a close, I made an unusual decision to move to “blink once and you’ll miss it Jasper, Alabama.” Over the next six months, I strolled through pretty stellar memories with my grandparents. If I am speaking my full truth, the months were filled with a regular routine and dinners for three at 4:30pm, around the small white table in the kitchen. I do not have a major reveal of learning that took place in those months, I did not experience a great awakening. Looking back I was learning the beauty of the now, not to anticipate or search for the next thing. I did not worry or wonder what I was missing out on. I fell in LOVE with a simple routine that now holds one the strongest anchors in my life. That time represents memories I shared with a man that left this world too suddenly and in my opinion, way before his time.

I grapple with this thought:

We never realize the value of something in our life until it becomes a memory.

I wish I could tell my future self to savor these times with him. Hold on to the joy of eating sweet snacks way past the time Nana thought we went to sleep. Hold on to our conversations watching a game.

One evening while carrying out our routine of late night banter, I was impacted by his simple words. I was able to see his heart, and how he would be remembered.

Watching the Braves, I looked over at Pawpaw and asked him, “ Are you proud of me? Do you think I will make a difference?”

As the words floated off my lips, into the air that created the space between us, Pawpaw looked at me with a big smile. My uncertain questions and thoughts were matched with his steadfast and confident reply. “Lizzie, you are making a difference, and I have never been more proud of you.”

Question, has anyone else arrived upon this thought of , “leaving a mark” or “ does my life have worth?”

I promise your secrets and fears are safe with me. To be quite honest, I struggle with this idea or thought occasionally. Please do not confuse popularity with influence. I hope to leave a mark or influence of LOVE. I do not show interest in being popular. I dare to live my life with the goal of Loving First, as my Pawpaw did. My baseball memory is linked to a Legacy of Love.

I want the difference to be that I LOVE so big that the generations to follow me are still guided by this notion. To you my confidantes, I am positive as I am sitting here typing the words for this months’ blog, we all have a “baseball” memory. I see you shaking your head up and down, YES!

Memories that shape and define us.

I challenge us all to pull those memories to the front of our mind and celebrate them. Let us not get too busy that we miss baseball and sweet treats. Life hack for me, is that being BUSY does not make you appear more important than anyone else. I believe there is beauty in the still and the routine, even if it's for a season or for a lifetime. Holding true to a busy lifestyle does not add or subtract from your value or your influence.

We can all raise our hand as guilty, living the day-by-day and not finding the best part of it. It’s good to talk about positives in the world, because c’mon do we really need another reason to be negative. We often do not see the beauty in the baseball moments. Together let's be present, let's be in the moment so that we can enjoy baseball while it’s happening and cherish it when it has passed.

This month I leave you with this thought, this challenge.

What is your baseball memory? What legacy will you leave?

Sending you all my love, until next time.

-your confidante