to find beauty

me and basketball

I remember as a young girl spending hours and hours shooting hoops with my neighbor Matthew... until it was too dark to see, until our moms gave us the final call to come inside, until the basketball would accidentally get thrown into the neighbor's backyard and we'd be forced to stop (unless one of us was brave enough to climb the fence!) We played PIG and Around the World and one-on-one. Sometimes he won, sometimes I won.

I loved seeing how many baskets I could make in a row. My dad marked the free throw line for me on the driveway, and I would practice my "rainbow arc" (as PE teacher Mr. Emory called it) until my arms hurt. I perfected the granny squat and what I termed "the toilet bowl." (When the ball spun around the rim until FLUSH! it went in or... well, always disapointedly, popped out.)

I also remember in elementary school collecting NBA basketball trading cards with my Dad. We'd spend hours organizing them, determining what players we were missing and studying stats. We'd have family nights of watching the game on tv and eating lots of pizza. I learned to appreciate the sport. I could follow the announcer! I knew what the numbers meant that flashed on the TV screen!

Of course, this was also during Trail Blazer Rip City time. It was all about Mercy Kersey and Clyde the Glide and Duckworth and Robinson and his famous, red sweatband. My sister and I made our mom take us to Mall 205 to get autographs of our favorite players. We, of course, had the full set of collector Blazer cups from Dairy Queen.

My first Blazer game was Blazers versus the Golden State Warriors... with my family, of course. We made big signs that we prayed would get to be on tv. We wore matching red sweaters. And the Blazers won! I distinctly remember leaving the Memorial Colisuem (no Rose Garden yet) and saying loudly for the world to hear with Blazer pride, "Watch out Warriors, you mess with the bull you get the horns!" Seriously!

I joined the basketball team in sixth grade. At the time, I was one of the tallest girls in the school. (Go puberty!) So, I was a natural forward. I probably would have continued playing basketball competitively, but we moved out to Damascus before my seventh grade year and I wimped out at trying sports at the new school. Seventh grade was also my most geeky year of school. Trying out for sports was not on my list of things to do; reading Anne of Green Gables and crushing on the boy who looked like Keanu Reeves was. Besides, I really didn't possess the natural basketball talent. I just liked playing for fun.

In high school, basketball was all about getting close time with the boys. My girlfriends and I quickly discovered that if we invited boys over to watch a basketball game (since we had good cable, and they (we assumed) didn't) they would always come over. The fact we barely watched the games when they came over was usually forgotten. They (the boys) also liked to play basketball with us. Though they would get annoyed with me for asking if we could play "that Change Game." (Not really a game, just what guys naturally do when shooting hoops together, apparently.)

When I was at Seattle Pacific freshman year, and needed to escape from homework and boy drama (of course), I would find my way to the basketball court at Ashton Hall and dribble away all my troubles. There is something about the feel of the ball in your hands, the sound of it hitting the court, the sweet satisfaction when you run for a lay up and it goes in! And maybe I didn't look like Michael Jordan doing it, but it didn't really matter.

So, today I was at work (at the church) and two of the pastors were reminiscing about their boyhood memories of playing basketball and discussing their current morning games they play with other nearby pastors. It really made me miss playing. I don't even own a basketball right now. I doubt I'd last very long playing a real game either. Haha.

I have been asking God to reveal to me things that I love to do that isn't being a workaholic at the church or watching America's Next Top Model on a beautiful sunny day or playing Scrabulous. ;) Ultimately, so I can get out and have fun doing what I enjoy... I know hiking, backpacking, and camping are on the list... but I had forgotten basketball. Really must get myself a basketball soon... I think there's a hoop at the church... ;)   

From the Mouths of Babes

When I was in Nicaragua, God laid on my heart a piece of my life story to share with kids and their families at La Churecha (the dump). I shared about my relationship with my dad... and my relationship with God the Father and how I spent many years filling a God-sized hole in me with things unsatisfying and it left me empty and sad.

Sharing at the dump was my first time being "translated" ...

me: Good evening. My name is Cori.
translator: Buenos noches. Me llamo Cori.

me: I am happy to be here with you all.
translator: Estoy contento con todos. (Uh, not sure if this is really correct translation.Go with me.)

Immediately I knew the pages and pages I had prepared earlier that day to share had to be tossed aside to something much simplier and shorter! This was going to take hours and hours at this pace! I loved sharing with the group, saying things that made them smile and laugh. Speaking in front of groups used to be a huge fear of mine... but God has been helping me through that fear... and right before I stood before the crowd to share, God gave me another lesson to learn...

So rewind a bit... and I am getting off the bus to arrive at the La Churecha to share my testimony... and when I step off the bus these little trouble-makin' boys welcome me by saying "oooh ella muy largo" ... *makes corresponding hand gestures impling that I am the size of a boat!*  adding, "oooh elefante."

Yeah. Even in Nicaragua little boys can be terrible. So, of course my feelings are hurt and I tell the boys in my stern babysitter voice with my hands on my hips, of course, "Muy Mal! Muy Mal!" They just laughed. Seriously!

So, I went inside and found a chair and thought. And thought some more. And prayed.  Here I was preparing to share with them my heart... and I am battling feelings of worthiness and vanity because of some playful teasing! I felt like I was being attacked, that whatever good I was to share with these people was going to be gobbled up by having negative response to what the little boys had said. I did not come all the way to Nicaragua to be inimidated by some nine-year olds!

And in that moment, my skin thickened and I was stronger. I went up to the front when I was called and in my silly, goofy way told the kids about how when I sad I liked to eat *with hand gestures of me eating* and go shopping... *with hand gestures of me spending money.* It was freeing to not worry what the people were thinking and if they were judging me. I knew who I was and who I am now.

I told this story to Ally, the nine-year old girl I have babysat for years, as I tucked her into bed last night. I wanted her to know that if kids say terrible things to her, about her (cause hello, shes nine! Kids are terrible and will continue to be terrible to each other even if shes awesome!) She needs to look always for the truth and own it. To not let someone's silly names and hurtful words make her feel bad. That she has a choice of accepting what they say as true or dismissing it as lies.

I am not sure how, but we (Ally and I) then started talking about being geeks and nerds after that... can't remember the tie in... but I was explaining to her that geeks can be cool because they know a lot of stuff about things... she then told me that I wasn't a nerdy-geek... that I was too cool and funky. See! Some nine year olds can be RIGHT ON! ;)

Speaking of nerds-geeks-and-dorks... Last November I wrote about being a Dork for God for the Uprising blog. I re-read it the other day, and love the fact that since I wrote it... I now help on the Benevolence team! Crazy how God works!

Little Kid Stories

Okay, so because I am not (yet, God willing someday) a mother... I don't have the endless supply of adorable stories about my  own children... HOWEVER... I have plenty of stories starring the children I babysit. My favorite munchkins are Ally, Colby and Cade and I have know them for, goodness, three or four years now. Crazy! Pretty soon they will be driving and dating and going off to college. ;)

Anyways, so last night their mother needed me to spend the night because she had an early flight, and her husband was out of town as well. Their nanny arrives at 7am, so there was a gap in time where their needed to be an adult in the house. So, I agreed. Even if it meant waking up at 6:15am! (really not that big of deal since California I have been getting up at that time anyways-- generally, I am a sleep until the last possible minute person.) My mission: make sure the girls got dressed and breakfasted and that Cade got his milk and cartoons before Jamie got there...

So, my favorite part of the morning was walking sleepy-eyed down the hall with Ally to wake up Colby. Colby, also sleep-eyed sees me and then gives me the best hug in the whole, wide world. Kids are great and giving those perfect hugs. I think every morning should start with a great hug.

I also got to spend about ten minutes with the girls looking at their Disneyland pictures. They have pictures with ALL the Disney celebs and princesses! I told them about my recent trip to Disneyland, and about how the Thunder Mountain ride stalled on us halfway up the first incline and they had to shut the ride down and we walked out of the mountain... with a free fast pass for any ride! And that I checked out toon town and stalked down Pluto and visited Goofy's house (see picture)!

Okay, so, later on, I have my stuff downstairs ready to be taken to my car... including my heeled boots that I had planned to wear! So, I proceed to visit with Jamie, the nanny, pick out an outfit for Cade and then congragulate him for peeing in his potty. (very important to do) ... Fast forward a bit, and its time to go. I go to get my stuff and  put on my boots, but they are no where to be seen. I am sooo confused. Did I leave them upstairs? I check. Are they in my suitcase? No. Then Ally, realizing what I am searching for... tells me to go look in Gina's (the mom) shoe cubby in the mud room. So, I go and sure enough, my boots are there! Apparently, Cade thought they were his mom's and knew that shoes WERE NOT LEFT IN THE LIVING ROOM and decided to put them away for her. This little guy will be three in June. He is so smart... sneaky, but smart!

So, those are my little kid stories for today.