Throbbing Football Feet

You know when you feel like you’ve had a long day, but actually it wasn’t? Today has been like an elongated elastic band: stretched, taut, tight and turning those unusually diseased looking colours in the middle. Try it, its true.

Anyway, I was involuntarily up early – continuing my power-nap friendly trend of late nights, early wake ups. I woke up feeling very down so did some writing which is funny. Feeling down isn't funny, I mean writing about feelings is funny. It does help putting words on paper, but A) I hate anything I have ever written because to me it resembles the crazed etch-a-sketchings of a delinquet street urchin pumped full of E numbers and B) I embrace emotional amplification dredging up feelings in my creative process. Great for fuelling thought, bad for psychological stability.

I’ve just realised how pretentious the alliterative phrases I used sound in that paragraph. Ah, the weaving of words.

I then went to my special prayer bench in the woods near my flat to clear my head and spend time with God. I prayed through Psalm 113, through which God reminded me about His sovereignty and providential plans and purposes. I love the fact He knows me, knows my frame, knows my wrestlings, knows my darkness and yet always whispers exactly the right thing. Or He just holds me.

My sermon is now complete! Well, a second draft, shaped and crafted a bit. No doubt tomorrow morning before its delivery, I will have a last minute pique and insist on ‘perfecting’ it. Which says more about me I think than the sermon. I’m still not used to this artistic side of me. Although I don’t have any urges to greet people with two kisses on their cheeks. Or wear berets. Or call everyone ‘dahhhling.’ Although the idea of referring to myself in the first person does hold a megalomanic appeal.

I’ve learnt to love football again. This season hasn’t been enjoying, probably because I’m running the team this year and as we’re not that successful it’s a strain. Everyone has an opinion, and some of the guys lack the character to accept it’s a team game. But today, we won 3-0. There are little life lessons God leads us through in everything, and I’ve noticed that with managing the team. Getting the whole team sat down together before a game and explaining simply, clearly and precisely how I want not only the team to play, but certain individuals, means the team take ownership and play more united - although sadly nothing like United. There are leadership ponderings in that for me to muse over, concerning sharing vision effectively, motivating teams, and implementing corporate strategies. And learning to be normal and not think about stuff so much.

The downside of football is that my feet throb. It feels like I’ve been hung upside down and they’ve been beaten with a frozen pineapple, until the pineapple has been softened sufficiently. Said pineapple has then been pulped and made into a foul concoction, and forced via my nostrils into my gullet. This would account for my lungs feeling full and my stomach feeling knotted. It’s nothing to do with my lack of physical fitness, y’hear!?

Had a power nap that lasted two hours – worryingly, my power naps are usually half hour max. Either I’m getting old or my sleep pattern is wasted. I’m in denial about the first, so its clearly the second. Inarguably so.

Went out to the pub with Ginge and Stud from football. Stud was late, as always, so we met Ginges friend and had some foot. I ordered a Four Cheese & Garlic Pizza, which if I’m honest resembled a circle of coagulated vomit, cut into sick-slice triangles and sprinkled with mouldly beard cuttings. But it tasted gooooood. If a little garlicy. And cheesy. Me, Ginge and Ginges mate had some deep and meaningfuls, about philosophy, subjective morality, companionship, biblical Christianity and modern church roles in the community. Considering they are both heathens, it was great. Sadly there wasn’t an open door for the Gospel, but I’m very happy when its the season to just sow seeds. Stud turned up and as his name suggested, the tone of the conversation declined so quickly I’m sure I could feel air bubbles forming in my bloodstream.

Anyhow, I made my excuses an hour later and came home, mainly due to a number of factors. Tiredness; preaching tomorrow; and the odd compulsion to write for an audience of one (I mean me, not God!). Oh, and the laxative effect of a four cheese and garlic pizza.