THE BASKETBALL CONNECTION

When I was in school, I loved basketball. My grandmother bought me a brand new ball to practice with at home. That’s the one I took to school and two older boys took from me and wouldn’t give it back. I’ll place a link at the end of this post so you can read that story if you haven’t already.*

I got another ball later and discovered that I was probably better off without one. We lived directly behind one of the neighborhood stores. The owner’s son was one of my friends. Sometimes he would get off the bus at the store and stay until it closed. Many times he would come and stay at my house until just before his dad locked up. One of those times, as he was leaving, he threw a rock in my direction. We had been playing with the basketball and I was about to take it into the house with me. As he threw another rock, I ran to where it was headed and let it bounce off the ball. He threw a few more and I intercepted each of them with the ball.

Then it happened. I missed, but the rock didn’t. It didn’t hit the basketball, it hit me; Right in the midsection. I dropped the ball and hobbled into the house crying so hard I could barely see. I crawled onto my grandmother’s bed and curled up in agony. I was in a lot of pain. I lay there for what seemed like forever, then I guess I finally went to sleep. When I woke up, I was better, but for a long time, I would have sporadic pains that would remind me of that day.

I believe that was the same basketball that I later used to damage myself again. I was squatted down, using a hammer for something and the basketball was nearby. For some dumb reason, I decided to hit the basketball with the hammer. When I did it bounced off the ball and the claws hit me right in the forehead. It was quick, and it was hard, and it really hurt. I still feel stupid for doing that even as I write this. Sometimes I can’t believe all the dumb stuff I did when I was young. As I look at some of the crazy things young people do today, I try to remember how dumb I was, before I condemn them.

That story reminds me of another incident that happened with one of my sisters when we were younger. It doesn’t involve a basketball, but it does have a hammer. The house we were living in belonged to my late great-uncle. It was old and drafty. At some point in the past, someone had put plastic over the windows on the outside and used roofing tacks with cardboard as washers to keep them from pulling through the plastic. The plastic was gone so I was using a claw hammer to pull the tacks out. I had to use some force, so I was swinging the hammer a bit and I wasn’t able to get the claws under the head of each nail the first time, every time.

My sister came out on the porch to brush her teeth. She bent over to spit just as I swung the hammer. It missed the tack head and hit her head. The claws made two deep holes in her skull. Here’s the funny part. She looked at me and said, “Did you hit me?” Believe it or not, we have had several laughs about it over the years.

Several years earlier, I had damaged my own head in the gym at school. The girls’ basketball team was practicing at one end of the court. Most of them were in a single line, and they were running some drills. The other end of the court was filled with kids playing whatever they wanted. The gym was full and I was being chased by a couple of girls. I ducked and dodged several people before running through the line of practicing girls. Just as I passed through the line I saw the wall, but not soon enough. I smashed into the corrugated tin which wasn’t all that solid. It was a just little too springy. I bounced off the wall quick and hard. I ended up on my back on the concrete floor. My head hit the floor so hard that it knocked me out for a few minutes. When I regained consciousness, my teacher was standing over me, calling my name and asking, “Are you alright?”

No, I wasn’t alright. There was a huge, hard knot on the back of my head and I was in a lot of pain. I remember sitting in the office as the teachers and the Principle discussed whether or not to send me home. They finally decided to contact my family and they came and took me to the doctor. They checked me out, and took some X-rays, then informed us that I had a concussion and a fractured skull. Thankfully, that’s the closest I have ever come to having a broken bone in my entire life. I went home and recovered in a few days, and soon I was back to my old self, and back in school.

I did learn some lessons from these experiences and I have applied them to my everyday life over the years. That has helped me to become more safety-minded and I’ve avoided many other accidents that could have possibly been fatal.

God wants us to apply the lessons we learn in our everyday lives to our spiritual life. Too often, we make quick decisions, without thinking like I did in these situations. Sometimes we have to make quick decisions, but usually, we have at least a few moments to think before we leap. That’s what God wants us to do. Many of my accidents could have been prevented if I had only thought about the variables. I’ve been accused of being pessimistic because I now think about what could go wrong before attempting certain new things. I don’t see it that way. I’m not expecting only bad outcomes, I’m just weighing the situation. I think it’s irresponsible to jump into anything without first thinking about it for at least a few minutes. That’s just common sense. The Bible has plenty to say about thinking before we speak, and there are many stories where people got into trouble by doing things without thinking first.

Most people would agree that we need to take time to consider our options before we make big decisions, but we need to do the same thing with everything we do. We need to stay in constant contact with God through prayer. We need a close personal relationship with Jesus, and when we have a decision to make, even a quick one, he will guide us through the Holy Spirit who lives in our minds. Life would be so much better, for all of us, if we were so close to God that we could hear him every time he tries to speak to us. That’s what I want. How about you?

*I Forgive You Mr. Richmond (Basketball Story)

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THE FLOOR, THE CAMERA, AND THE SANDWICH

I’ve already told you about my oldest memory, well I think this is my second oldest one. I remembered playing on the living room floor with a small toy car or truck in that little house my grandma was renting from the Richardsons in Theo, Mississippi. They also owned one of the little country stores that were there at the time.

I remember rolling a small ball around on the same floor. The floor wasn’t level so the ball would roll by itself. All I had to do was place it at the high point of the floor and let it go, then it would roll a couple of feet to hit the baseboard, and then come to a stop in the corner. I recall doing that over and over again. It never got old.

I also remember that part of the linoleum was torn back from the wall revealing another layer of older linoleum that was not torn as far from the wall as the top layer. The edges had been tacked down with those little black tacks. The raw wood floor was made of narrow boards, probably four or five inches wide.

Even though we moved from there when I was six or seven, I can still see much of the house in my mind. We have several pictures of the outside but I don’t think there were ever any taken on the inside. My grandmother had one of those old square shutter cameras without a flash. That’s the camera she used until she died. It had a viewfinder bubble, so you had to hold the camera down in front of you to see the image you wanted to take. Then you pushed a small handle down with your thumb to snap the picture. Then you had to manually turn a knob on the side to roll the film into position to take the next picture. They needed plenty of light to take a good picture so to get the best picture quality, outside on a sunny day was ideal.

The siding on the house was made of the same stuff roofing shingles are made from today but it was in big sheets. The roof was covered with corrugated sheets of rusty tin, and there was a small porch at the front of the house where my grandmother would often sit and watch us play in the front yard. We never got too far away from her. She was our protection and our lifeline and I guess we knew it even at such a young age.

In the backyard, we had a small garden in the summer. I remember almost stepping on a snake in that garden and being pulled back by my aunt just in time. When my grandmother first told me the story of Peter Rabbit, that was the garden I pictured in my mind. There was a clothesline strung between two trees at the end of the garden.

One day as she was hanging out clothes, I noticed a knot on a tree, about a foot up from the ground. I ran and jumped on the knot with one foot, then pushed myself off of it and landed back on the ground. I liked that, so I did it again. My grandmother said to me, “Stop before you get hurt.” I thought to myself, “Just one more time.” As I jumped up one last time, my foot slipped off the knot, and instead of bouncing off the tree, my chin slid down the tree, ripping the skin off in several strips. Owhhhhhhhh! I still remember the pain and embarrassment.

Closer to the house there was a spot where the wood for the heater was piled each winter. One winter we had a pile of slabs from the sawmill. I remember picking up boards about two feet long and throwing them higher onto the woodpile. That was also the spot where we would later tie our dog named Clete that we got from our uncle.

It was cold outside, but we were usually pretty warm in our little house, thanks to my grandmother, and our little wood heater, both provided by God, by the way. There was a pan to put the ashes into before carrying them out of the house when the heater would get too full. It always stayed in front of the heater to catch anything that might fall out while stoking the fire or putting more wood in.

I don’t remember where we had been that day, but we had just come home. My grandmother started a fire and put a couple of chairs in front of the heater so we could get warmed up while she fixed us something to eat. Soon, she brought me and my sister each a sandwich on a plate, and then went back into the kitchen.

Now, I never remember wasting food unless it tasted really bad, or unless I found a hair in it, but my little sister was a picky eater. If she didn’t want it, she got rid of it. She took one of her pieces of bread off her sandwich and threw it in the ash pan. Then she folded her other piece in half around her bologna slice.

When our grandmother came back from the kitchen, she saw that piece of bread in the ashpan. For some reason, she slapped me on the leg as she asked me, “Why did you throw that piece of bread in there?” I started crying. I think it was more because she accused me of something I didn’t do, more than the actual slap itself. When I explained what had actually happened, she apologized. After I stopped crying, I finished my sandwich and went on with my life.

I tell you that story because I remember it, not because I hold a grudge against my grandmother. She wasn’t perfect. She made mistakes, just like all parents do, but she loved us and she did the best she could. I don’t hold any grudges against my mom and dad for not raising us either. Too often, people can’t move on in life because they refuse to forgive their parents for the mistakes they made in raising them, but holding on to anger will eat you up inside and you’ll be a miserable person. It robs you of God’s blessings and his forgiveness.

Jesus said if we don’t forgive others, then God won’t forgive us (Matthew 6:14-15). If we’re not forgiven then we won’t make it to heaven, and that would be sad. So if you’re holding on to some hurt because of something someone has done to you, forgive them and be free from that burden Give it to Jesus and move on. Instead of dwelling on hurtful memories, choose to remember good times. The more time we spend with the good memories, the less time we’ll have to think about the bad ones. Try it. It really helps.

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© 2017 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
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