Eyes on the Prize, You've been Drafted

I'm not this Mom, and yet, I was doing it.
I was folding clothes
(nah, don't say it's so)
and I was watching the NFL draft
(Whaat? Girlfriennn!)
I know.  
The anticipation was contagious, and the Mom's excitement-good TV.  Her arms in the air, praying or thanking, running in place, breathing into her own sweaty palms, and then, the name she'd thought on for months while she was pregnant; the name she'd yelled in the yard and growled in the store, the butt she wiped, and the butt she popped when that son was outta line was about to be called out.  Into a microphone, someone was going to say that name.  It was gonna change everything.  She could scream she was so proud.  She did scream!  She reached for him with a force that said:  "I. Believe. In you, Son."  She raised up, reached her arms around and rocked him, because that was everything she could do to cradle her baby, 6'5 322lbs.

He was cocky (but crying).  He tugged his ball cap down too far.  Wet eyes.  He waited for a moment like this all his life.  But "waiting" is not a quality description of what he'd done.  I'll guess.  He practiced.  He worked, he trained, he managed self and that grew into self-discipline-not all the time, but a good bit of it.  He wanted to give up, sometimes his Momma'd let him, but she was his first coach and she always told him like it was.  He started to catch a vision.  He started to crave a team.  He began to see the part he played there.  It was natural, meant to be.  He felt good.

I was proud of him too.  He was drafted.  What it must be like. 
The school I went to when I was a kid played six-man Varsity football.  Small farm town, like the rest around us, my class: six students strong.  The P.E. teacher was also the Varsity football coach and he loved our class, purely for the number of us.  He often worked his weekend playbook on us.  We'd run a play and he make us go back and try something else.  He was envisioning us as something other than we were.  [Except for the true statement, I did happened to be a fantastic young kicker.  But I digress.]  We didn't understand our part then, we couldn't see we were pre-running victorious plays.  We were x's and o's on graph paper come alive.  We were a part of a final plan to take the win.

Days gone by.

I was supposed to be writing a letter to someone else this morning, but I was thinking about me and you.  I want you to know something you may have forgotten;  you're on this earth, you're here.  You are a part of a team, right now.  You Have Been Drafted!  Celebrate.  Believe.  Your life has a specific purpose, you are supported, you have a signed contract that says 'every day of your life was written down before one of them came to be.'  You have a coach, and you have been trained, by your life, to assist the team. 
Arms In.  Let's Win!