The legend.
My hero.
The one and only Dale Murphy.
As we gathered on the bottom row of field level seats to watch him warm up with his teammates, I took the opportunity to snap a few photos while I was close enough for the camera to actually capture his face (for soon the game would start and I’d pretty much need the Hubble telescope to even see the game, much less get any pictures of it). I couldn’t believe it – there he was, just hundreds of feet from me, The Murph. He was now in a Phillies uniform instead of the Atlanta blue I had grown up watching him in, but it didn’t even matter. He was right there, right in front of me!
And then it happened.
The players began to exit the field through the dugout, but Murph trotted in a different direction: straight toward the little group of kids I was standing in. This was it! I was going to get to meet Dale Murphy and get his autograph!
I waited patiently as kid after kid got their caps and cards and programs signed. Then it was my turn. I held out my ball and, just as Murph freed his hands to reach for it, his coach called for him from the dugout. He apologized and trotted off in the direction of responsibility.
I held it together on the outside and verbally reasoned that it was at least good enough to have been that close to him, but secretly I was crushed. I really wanted that ball signed. I know it’s just some guy’s name written in ink on a silly little photo ball I found at Winn Dixie, but somehow it would have meant so much to me to have it. To know that Dale Murphy had touched and signed that ball. But it just wasn’t to be.
We watched the game from the upper stratosphere that night, and had a blast. I don’t even remember who won, but I know that Murph was there and that was enough for me. A couple of years later, he retired. No more Mighty Murphy. The Braves retired his jersey. No more number 3. And, it seemed for me, no more chance of getting that silly little ball signed.
Fast forward a few years to yesterday. In a very strange marketing decision, it was Atlanta Braves night at Smokies stadium (our local Chicago Cubs affiliate…go figure…). And who would be appearing? You guessed it! The Murph! And did I go? You bet I did! And did I stand in line for two hours just for this?
Right again! One guy had been waiting at that stadium since 8:30 that morning to be first in line for an autograph, but I knew he had nothin’ on me. I had been standing in line for 17 years, 11 months and 7 ½ innings before I finally got that signature and my 10 seconds of face time with the Murph. And it was well worth the wait!
There’s something about standing in front of your childhood hero – even at 31 – that just makes the world seem right for a minute. All that was good and fun and innocent about life came pouring back to my heart, and just for a moment I was a carefree tomboy again, watching baseball with my grandfather and eating circus peanuts with my Murphy-loving neighbor. Just for that moment there weren’t a thousand different things piled on my plate. The family drama was gone, the to-do list was wiped clean, and all the questions hadn’t even been asked yet. Just for that one little moment, I was free to just breathe and be a kid again.
I tell you this for two reasons: one, because I’ve needed that little tiny breath of freedom for a while, and two, because I really just wanted to tell you a cool story about having to wait. I’m sorry I had to take an unannounced hiatus from blogging this summer, but I just needed a little step-back-from-life time. Sure, we traveled during some of that time and I wouldn’t have been able to blog anyway, but I really was just taking a little self-evaluation time. I needed to walk away from a few things for a bit, and blogging was one of the easier things to take a break from.
But I’m back now, and hopefully I’ll have something worthwhile to say this year! I really think that the Lord has been working on my heart lately, just tweaking me and changing me into more of the person He wants me to be. I’m really excited for what He has in store for me, even though I haven’t the first clue about what it may be. I’m just overwhelmingly grateful to be on the journey and to be a part of His story.
So I hope I haven’t lost you forever, and that you’ll come back and join me from week to week, to share little glimpses of this journey has me on. Perhaps you’ll find a moment of freedom every now and then as you read these posts – a moment to just step away and think about something different. Most of all, though, I pray that somehow you will find encouragement and meaning in my words, even though they seem much less important than some guy’s name, written in ink, on silly little ball from Winn-Dixie.
Sorry for the wait, but I’m ready to start writing again. I’m looking forward to “seeing” you here again soon!
