Not Reflected in the Score

It's not everyday that a lacrosse game makes you cry. Unless you're me, in which case you cry over everything from the sunrise and puppies to death and taxes. I can tell you that in the case of this game, however, I wasn't the only one emotionally affected.

On Tuesday evening, Villanova men's lacrosse played Princeton here at Villanova. For those of you who remember everything I say and write (which means you probably need to expand your social circle), you may recall that Chris Bates, husband of my friend, the late Dr. Ann Bates, is coach of the Princeton team. For the last two years, a small group of Freakin' Angels has road tripped to Princeton to see a game. When we learned of the match up here, Angel Kim G. suggested we make it a group outing and extended an invitation to our wider church community. In the end, we more than qualified for a ticket discount with a group of 44 "Ann's Fans" planning to attend.

Tuesday evening was cold, but can I be totally dorky and tell you that we were comfortable and warm in each others company? (Literally. The minute someone got up to hit the snack bar, their absence made you chilly.) There was something so incredibly moving about this group of 40-some people, from ages 5 to 55, all gathered together to celebrate our friend Ann and cheer on the man she loved. On a personal level, the gathering was a living reminder of our human need for community, the need to belong to something bigger than ourselves. I was awed by the blessing that these people are in my life. My Freakin' Angel friend Cathie, who does not cry, was also touched by the experience. The next day, she sent this email to the group:

I'm thankful:
> For you all and for your friendship.
> For the warmth that comes from having you all in my life & from sitting close under blankets.
> For our families and how they can all just blend together.
> For laughter.
> For a win for Princeton.
> For Theresa's on the spot medical assistance (damn those bleachers).
> For cocoa and pretzels generously delivered.
> For strong arms to carry Gemma when mine get tired.
> For Kim's organization in purchasing tickets for us all.
> For Nicholas' (Bates) never ending smile.
> For joy on a cold night.
> For Dickie's excellent photography work to capture the gems below.
> For Ann's friendship that continues to give to each of us.

Just a few of the girls in the group

When I asked Cathie's permission to use this in my blog, she said those were just the quick ones off the top of her head, there were plenty more things to be thankful for. Amen to that. 

Cathie wasn't the only one to share her feelings after the game. Kim S. (we have lots of Kims) noted, "A couple of times during the night I looked around and felt so lucky to be a part of such a great group." And Kim G. added, "It was so fun and such a blessing. I remember thinking that it's quite possible that a similar type of group someday soon will be gathering to watch some of our kids in their ventures. I truly consider you all family."

Someone who I never expect to share her feelings or express emotion is my daughter Abby. She'll tell you she loves you at least twice a day, but she doesn't put her feelings on display (I'm not sure we're actually related). For the first part of the game she voiced her displeasure at being there. "Cold and bored." After I further bundled the blankets around her and pulled her up close to me (and paid for hot chocolate), she seemed satisfied and even passed on the opportunity to go home early with a friend. When we arrived home after the game, Abby was almost giddy and unusually affectionate. In fact, when it was time for bed, she said something about snuggling with Rob and me, and when I agreed, she retrieved her favorite blanket and cuddled up between us, arms wrapped around me. If you think that's kinda weird, you've never watched your teenage daughter grow up too quickly and wished you could stop time and have her be a little girl again. The little one who wanted to sleep with you when she was scared, or not feeling well, or daddy was out of town. When they're little, those nights can be frustrating, but when they're 13, you know each time they cuddle with you could very well be the last (until you're 40, at which point you're happy to snuggle with your mom again).

I guess what I haven't said here is that I firmly believe Abby was moved by the friendship, love and affection our group of 40-some showed for one another. She knows how much my friends mean to me, but there was something incredibly powerful about seeing, and being part of, the sheer number of moms, dads, and kids gathered together for much laughter and joy. It's contagious. In fact, I hope that if you haven't yet been afflicted with this degree of love and friendship, that you catch it real quickly. This wonderful group of people is more than happy to spread it around.