God’s love. What does it “feel like”? Other than a feeling of awareness, which can be almost euphoric, when you recognize it or you acknowledge it, which can then make you feel like you are experiencing it in a moment; what does it feel like?
It feels like Minute Maid Park. On a Monday night. Because, you see, my son and I spent Monday night at the ball park together. We’ve done it before but we have never done it alone. Just the boys. “Guys Night Out”. An 8-year old and his dad in a half empty stadium (or half full, depending on how you look at it), sitting in a place where hardly anyone else was sitting. It was like the place belonged to us.
I asked Lorenzo what he wanted to eat. “Popcorn and Cotton Candy”, he said. “You bet”, I said. Now, before you go calling Child Protective Services just know that this granted request is rare. But it was granted on Monday night because this was a night that was all about him. And us.
In the 5th inning we moved down to the “good seats” since so many of them were empty. The people who normally stop you from going down there without a ticket just looked the other way. Maybe they knew that dad wanted to impress his son by taking him down to the place where you are so close you could almost hear the players breathe. It was cool because we sat their with our Auburn Tiger shirts; not because we were in the mood to “strut our stuff”, we wore them out of necessity because as it turns out, Auburn Tiger colors are the same as Astros colors and since neither one of us own an Astros shirt, we wanted to somehow show our loyalty. We matched.
We decided to take care of the lack of Astros shirt problem by going to the giant Astros Shop near our seats. We bought shirts. Matching, of course. Lorenzo bought baseball cards. The nice man at the register gave him four free packs to go along with the ones he bought with his birthday money that he had saved. This was amazing because I was a baseball card fanatic and so now we share a passion, he and I.
We sat in our seats and we watched the game and we looked at his baseball cards and we drank our Sprites and then at some point in the 8th inning he put his head on my shoulder and I looked down at him and he just smiled without saying a word. I got goose bumps.
We held hands all the way out of the stadium until we got to the car. “Can we do this again?”, he asked. “You bet”, I said.
“I think I am going to go to sleep”, he said.
I looked at him in my rear view mirror. “I love you”, I said. “Love you”, he said back. A night at Minute Maid Park.
God’s love feels like that.