Super Bowl Sunday

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Super Bowl Sunday

We’ve been up in the White Mountains of Arizona this week working on several writing and speaking projects. This spring is chocked full of some great ministry opportunities that require original, thoughtful preparation that doesn’t get done as efficiently at the office amidst phone calls, radio interviews, and staff meetings. The day after we got here, it started to snow and has snowed on and off for the last few days. It’s beautiful and it’s so cold the squirrels have gone south (-10*) but we are cozy and warm in our friend’s wonderful cabin. This morning, we went out to start the car and get it warmed up to see if we could back it up and get in position to head down the mountain tomorrow. Tim was very excited because he was actually going to get to put the car in four wheel drive (something not needed very often in Scottsdale). But when he turned the key, the battery was dead. I think it froze to death. That’s when a tinge of panic set it! “We’ve got to get this car started. We’ve got to get down the hill tomorrow”. This urgency was not because we needed to get home to our family, nor was it because we needed to be in position for work on Monday, or even that we needed to collect the mail, water the plants and bring in the newspapers. No, we needed to get home and get in position for Super Bowl Sunday! According to Tim, there can be no greater travesty than missing the Super Bowl game. I don’t even think Tim cares who wins this game, but the thought that millions of people would be watching this Championship Game without him was just not right. This final battle in the football arena has become tantamount to a sacred holiday in our country. According to Wikipedia, it is the second-largest day for U.S. food consumption, after Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not complaining here. I love a good football game and all of the festivities that go with it. I’m just making an observation. I have come to a few conclusions though: I pity the woman who goes into labor on the first Sunday in February or the poor soul whose obituary will read, “on February 6th, during half time of the Super Bowl game he crossed over into glory”. And I can also conjure up some sympathy for the speaker/author who gets snowed in up in the White Mountains and misses the big game. By the way, to everyone coming over to our house on Sunday to watch the big game, if we’re not there, the chips are in the cupboard and the remote is next to the TV. Have fun and could you please TiVo the commercials?

Who are you cheering for?

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