Pass it on

It happened today.

Finally. I've waited for this day for seven years now and it is here.

I had my first "catch" with my son.

No, it's not the first time I've played catch with him. It's not the first time that we've tossed a ball back and forth in the yard. But, it is the first time that we've thrown a real hardball, wearing real baseball gloves. It was our first "real" catch.

It took me way back to the days of doing the same with my Dad right there in the middle of Plymouth Drive in Cherry Hill. I remember so well the times after dinner when Dad would say, "Do you want to have a catch?" What a thrill it was.

We would grab our gloves and head for the street. Start with some short, soft tosses. Gradually work up to longer and harder throws. Soon Dad would be mixing it up with grounders and pop flies. I remember teasing the bats by making them swarm around the ball when we tossed it up high. I remember my bad throws that Dad would chase down the street without an expression of complaint. We would throw until we couldn't see any more because it was too dark.

Now, I get to do that with my son. I couldn't have imagined that back in those days some 30 years ago. But here I am. A daddy, with my own son, teaching him to throw a baseball just like my Dad taught me.

But baseball is one thing. Loving God is another altogether. I'm grateful that my Dad taught me that too.

As I stood by my son's bunk tucking him in tonight and he asked me the deep questions rolling around in his seven year old mind, questions about heaven and God and sin and truth, I thanked God for my Dad who taught me so much more than baseball. And I thanked God that I have the privilege to pass this awesome heritage on to my son with the prayer that he will one day do the same with his.

The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places; Indeed, my heritage is beautiful to me. - Psalm 16:6