Walking on Sunshine

“Because you’re mine, I walk the line”.

Johnny Cash

 “Do you like to hike?”

Those five words combine to make one of my favorite phrases in the English language. It’s right up there with:

“Play ball”,

“It is finished”, and 

“Free pizza”.

Hiking or walking is a beloved hobby. I stopped playing basketball and softball long ago. So I enjoy hiking for the physical exercise. Hiking also provides the chance to experience the beauty of nature that my kickboxing gym can’t duplicate. I love to opt outside to quiet and revive my soul along the beach, amongst the redwoods, or up a steep mountain trail. 

Walking is perhaps an individual’s first great achievement. “Is he or she walking yet?” we ask people upon meeting their infant. A child’s first steps are recorded, chronicled, and immortalized in photos and phone calls to grandma. From then on, everything we learn usually requires baby steps. Sometimes what we attempt isn’t always a walk in the park. But usually, and especially as toddlers, we have to learn how to walk before we can run. 

In all walks of life, there are good days and bad days. Particularly at work. Some days are a cakewalk and others feel like we were forced to walk the plank. Occasionally we have to walk on eggshells around grumpy coworkers and walk the tightrope to balance both a career and a family. Hopefully, the boss doesn’t say you’re walking on thin ice. It’s much better if he or she thinks you walk on water. I just wish my class would walk in single file. 

In baseball, we have walk-off homers. And a base-on-balls, or a “walk” is a good thing (for the batter, not the pitcher), but in basketball walking is against Dr. Naismith’s rules. 

Musically, The Bangles taught us how to Walk Like an Egyptian and The Police went Walking on the Moon. Aerosmith told us which way to walk (this way) and Nancy Sinatra had special boots made just for walking. And of course, Johnny Cash made sure he Walked the Line.

Some walks are shorter than others. A walk down memory lane can be quite brief. But it helps to walk a mile in someone’s shoes to really get the whole story. A bad friend can walk all over you. Integrity mandates that we walk tall and walk our talk.  

My first date with Beautiful Karla was a walk on the beach. It followed a few days after she texted, “Do you like to hike?” We’ve been walking together ever since. And today we get to walk down the aisle together. It will be a short walk, upon the soft, emerald lawn of a golf course in Seaside, CA. Harkening back to our first walk, the ocean will be in view. And the majestic eucalyptus trees that spend their lives guarding fairways will join our family and friends to bear witness to our vows and raise sturdy branches in praise to God for bringing us together. 

I know wholeheartedly that without Him, we wouldn’t be taking these steps today. Karla’s humble walk with God was one of the first things that drew me to her. I also know that marriage, though wonderfully joyous, is also extremely hard. So we both will look to him for guidance and help. Marriage must also consist of sacrifice. It’s a life of trying to out-serve the other. My pastor labels this a “race to the bottom.” 

I’m up for this race, but I feel like Karla has already lapped me. It’s a daily race that, like walking, has to be practiced, done step-by-step, and performed faithfully. It’s walking by faith as II Corinthians 5:7 describes. It’s a walk that God will give us the grace and strength to do as we amble hand in hand, down the aisle, along the beach, and up the mountain trails for the rest of our lives together. 

A Season of All-Star Love and Definitions

I LOVE the All-Star Game. And I’m so looking forward to tonight’s showdown from Cleveland. The last All-Star game that I missed was the 1968 midsummer classic from Houston, which occurred the day before my birth. The game was a 1-0 snoozer so I’m somewhat glad that I missed it. 

Tonight, once again, it’s the best of the American League vs. the best of the National League. 

Trout and Yelich,

Mookie and Max,

Cole and Kershaw.

Harper and …. Oh wait, Bryce and his $330 mega-millions didn’t make it this year. 

In a strange turn of events that can only be described as divine intervention, I got up in the middle of last year’s game and went to make a delivery to a new essential-oil customer. A little over a year later, next Friday, I will be marrying her, the one and only -- Beautiful Karla. The last year has been a new season of love for me, and with our wedding just 10 days away, I thought it was time to dust off the Dickson Baseball Dictionary for my annual collection of baseball terms. What’s the theme? Nothing but LOVE, of course. 

A is for Appreciation Day – A celebration dedicated to a particular player, held in conjunction with a baseball game. Since our first date on August 5^th, everyday has been BK Appreciation Day. 

B is for Baseball Bride – The wife of a baseball player. Karla might feel like a baseball bride given how often she gets to watch Angel games and the MLB Network with me. 

C is for Cheese (a synonym for a fastball) and Cake (something done easily; e.g. a pitcher who says retiring the side will be a “piece of cake”).  BK isn’t a fan of frosting, so instead of three-tiered confectionary tower, our reception will feature a cookie bar with a slice of cheese-cake.

C is also for Cutie – A pitcher who specializes in throwing curveballs and slow stuff on the corners. My step-daughter-to-be, Alyse, is so adorable that if she decides to play Little League baseball the opposing hitters won’t have a chance with her off-speed pitches.

D is for Diamond Artist -- A term used in the 1930 for a ballplayer. Pierre from Marquis Jewelry, who made our rings, is the best diamond artist I know. 

D is also for Dodge the Bullet – To get out of a threatening situation; esp. appropriate to pitchers. It’s also appropriate for a certain left-handed teacher who was facing terminal singlehood.

F is for Fight Off – To be a persistent batter who fouls off pitches until getting the pitch wanted or drawing a walk. Also what Karla and I will repeatedly have to do to prospective suitors when Alyse hits high school. 

G is for Give Oneself Up – To hit the ball behind a teammate on base in an effort to bring him home or advance him to scoring position. Also the sacrificial posture of a successful marriage or when the husband relinquishes the control of the TV remote. 

H is for Hitch – A hesitation a batter makes with the bat before starting his swing. I felt no uncertainty in my decision to ask BK to get hitched. 

K is for Kiss – To hit a ball exceptionally hard or a wedding officient’s final ceremonial command. 

K is also for Knock Out – To cause a pitcher to be removed from the game or one of my favorite monikers for Karla.

L is for Leading lady – The first batter up in an inning. Or a term for Karla when I fall behind on a long hike.

Off the Schneid – Said of a player or a team coming out of a slump or a winless streak. Or yours truly after nine years of singleness. 

R is for Ring Up – To strike out a batter or what confident boyfriends do on bended knee at proposal time. It’s also the job of Eli, my step-son-to-be and our ring-bearer, during the ceremony.

S is for Sweetheart – A star player, esp. a pitcher, who rises to the occasion. Sometimes Karla thinks Mike Trout is my favorite sweetheart, but it’s not true. He’s a distant second. 

T is for Take the Blankets Off – To use a player in a game. Or what couples do in the summer when the air conditioner goes out.

Y is for Youth Movement – The process of trading or releasing old players and bringing up highly promising rookies from the minor leagues. While not exactly robbing the cradle, Karla is eight years the younger, so my youth movement should provide a dedicated caregiver in my old age. 

That 1968 All-Star Game was the first ever to be played at night, indoors, and on artificial turf. It was also loaded with future Hall of Famers. Four consecutive NL Future Hall of Famers took the mound alone: Drysdale, Marichal, Carlton, and Seaver. So it’s no wonder the AL didn’t score.

  

Time will tell how many future Hall of Famers are playing tonight. But the game will feature a youth movement, as there are 19 All-Stars who are 25-years-old or younger. The game is also the first I get to watch with my leading lady and Hall of Fame fianceé. We’ll both be rooting for Trout to pick up his unprecedented third All-Star MVP award. Just don’t tell him he’s no longer my No. 1 sweetheart. 

The Jesus I Know

Will I dance for you Jesus or in awe of you be still?
-- MercyMe

I watched the movie “I Can Only Imagine” last night. Through the story of MercyMe’s lead singer Bart Millard, the movie presented the history of the most famous song in modern Christian music and how it launched the band’s rise from obscurity to the big time. 

It’s also a great movie about forgiveness and redemption. The once overplayed-to death-song is now just a bright star in the constellation of pop/country/Christian music. For most, it’s probably a fond memory of songs gone by, unless you played it at a loved one’s funeral. Which I did at my mom’s memorial service in early 2004 when the song was still residing on the BillboardHot 100 list. 

Watching Millard debut the song at the end of the movie was a powerful moment, transporting me back to the day in Monterey when my mom was memorialized with tributes, slide shows, and I Can Only Imagine. Fifteen years later, the song is still being used at funerals.

I’ve been to too many funerals lately. I feel like I’ve entered a new season in the circle-of-life department. It’s like the post-college season when there was a wedding every other month. Instead of watching friends tie the knot, I’m now consoling them when they lose a parent, or in some cases their spouse. This time of life should be called Four Funerals and a Wedding. 

And often, I Can Only Imaginestreams through the speakers as the slideshows roll on. 

And yet this weekend, as we remember Christ’s death and subsequent resurrection, I can’t help but think that the one man who conquered death didn’t receive a funeral. I don’t know how funerals went in ancient Israel. Maybe they had a weeklong period of mourning, complete with potato casseroles, sackcloth, and ashes. Maybe the deceased, like Jesus, was buried right away. We know from John 11 that Lazarus was in his tomb for four days before being raised to life. But how many days after his death did the burial occur? Jesus died just before the start of the Sabbath and he was hastily laid to rest. The resurrection account in Luke 24 says that the women were on their way to prepare Jesus’ body. So maybe a more formal and proper funeral was forthcoming. Good thing Jesus didn’t die on a Tuesday and he came back to life three days later in the middle of his funeral. I can only imaginewhat that would have been like.

Yesterday morning, I had a brief conversation with my checker at Trader Joes. It was crowded at an early hour and our chat led to Easter. He said he was thinking of asking his customers what significance Easter has for them. I asked how it was going. He said I was the first. 

So I told him Easter is the day I celebrate the resurrected life of the one who purchased my forgiveness and conquered death.

He liked my response.

But I must ask you now. Who is Jesus to you? 

Is his just the first name you utter when you’re upset or frustrated? Are you a fan, but there’s no way in H-E-L-L you’d ever darken the door of a church? Did you grow up in the faith, still believe, but have no space or time for organized religion? Is Easter only for family gatherings, with egg hunts for the kids and a ham the size of a Honda? 

If so, I’d like you think about getting to know Jesus the way I do. Lord knows I’ve made my share of mistakes … of all shapes and sizes, so I’m not trying to judge. I throw a lot of things, baseballs, parties, ideas; but certainly not any rocks. 

But the Jesus I know asks you to forgive those who hurt you and then gives you the ability to do so.

The Jesus I know redeems the pain of bad decisions (yours and others) and gives you second chances that are more amazing that you could have ever hoped or imagined. 

The Jesus I know holds your head above water when you feel like you’re drowning.

He brings help when the walls you have to climb are too high and the river you have to cross is too wide.

He accepts you the way you are.

He doesn’t require you go to a specific church, change your political worldview, or stop hanging out with your best friends. 

But he does ask for everything you have: your fears, worries, cares, burdens, hopes, hurts, and dreams … basically your life. Then he wastes nothing in working it all for good.

He climbs mountains, kicks in doors, and swims oceans to get to you when you need him most. He digs you out from under the weight of guilt and shame.

The Jesus I know loves you like a really good parent loves a son or a daughter. Tenderly, compassionately, and patiently.

The Jesus I know came back to life, conquered death, rolled away the stone, and exited the tomb so that YOU could have life, not just a future eternal life in heaven … which is a pretty darn good thing … but a life of peace and hope in both the joyful and the painful times here on earth NOW. 

The Jesus I know is hanging out with my mom in heaven. I am confident of this because I know that before she died, she knew him like I do.

Easter was her favorite holiday. She used to dress us up, take us to church, and cook a wonderful meal.

I can only imagine what it’s like for her in heaven. Because of the Jesus I know, someday I’ll find out. 

Will you be joining me?

HAPPY EASTER