We had the World Series on last night and as with all ball games, I was half paying attention, half reading a book.
But at one point the screen had my full attention as players, coaches, umpires, and all the fans in the stadium from the hoity-toity box seat holders to the people behind home plate to the ones in the outfield nosebleed section stood silently holding signs with names of people in their lives affected by cancer.
Many signs just said “loved ones” because the names were too many, I guess.
Some held more than one sign with names like “Aunt Betty” or someone’s full name or the one player whose sign just said, “My Mom”.
I thought of our little guys out on ball fields all summer and how family has gathered to cheer them on.
That player was a little boy not long ago. Someone’s son and now he’s all grown up with all the semblance of success, yet his heart is broken for his mom.
So on a break from the game, the entire stadium and field stood silent.
There they stood, from all walks of life with all kinds of salary variations and from all over the country, unified by one great trial.
Someone or many ones are fighting or have fought the battle with cancer.
We walk among hurting and wounded people every day.
Everyone we see and deal with is carrying a silent sign with the name of at least one loved one who is battling against the fall out of the fall today.
Let’s be gentle.
Let’s look past the major league uniform, the big salary, the box seat pass or the economy ticket and consider that our fellow travelers are also carrying burdens of the heart.
Let’s be praying for others, let’s be pointing them to the one whose burden is light and who shares the yoke of our humanity.
Let’s be kind because we really are all just little leaguers at heart in a game that throws a lot of curve balls on any given day.