With the recent revamping of my blog, this post seemed to fit perfectly as my first of many Throwback Thursday re-posts.  I wrote this December of 2007 as a freshman in college. I can't help but think God must have given a little chuckle, knowing all my future would hold. It is important to note that I did not
know Josh when I first wrote this.

I put a sweatshirt on. I am bundling up for the cool night air I will soon encounter.  One step out the door and my bones are chilled.  But with every step, my body begins to generate heat. I walk down the old, crumbling Aagard steps, painted white on the edge so as not to trip. I decide that tonight is a night of risk, as I mosey into the road. I perform a balancing act on the two yellow lines in the middle of the pavement. No cars come. It's just me and the yellow-lined road. The gravel crunches underneath my feet when I come to what was at the beginning of my trip a far off parking lot. It is now just beneath my toes. I'm almost there. I place my foot on the middle bar and hurl my leg over the pointy edge of the gate. I land with a thud on the cement pad. I have successfully jumped my first chain link fence.  

I breathe in the cold night air. I am now in my sanctuary. The blackened night sky goes on for miles above me. Glimmering stars are painted across the great expanse. Below, green grass stretches right up to the farthest fence, a fence that urges the team to "go hard or go home." A raised dirt mound finds its place in the center, where the focus will remain on one man in tomorrow's game. Four white bases stand out in the darkness of the night. Will you be called safe? I make my way to the dugout.  The discards of sunflower seeds litter the ground.  I sit. The metal bench is like ice to my legs and back, even through clothing snuggled up to my skin. It is said that my first trip out of the house as a newborn was to a baseball game. 
I remember that and smile. 
My life has always called me 
back to the baseball field.

I am an accountant. I am a closet hip-hop dancer. I am a decorator. I'm a gym-goer. I'm a veggie lover, and a pizza lover. I am a Jesus-believer. I am a sister. I am a nail biter. I am even a baseball coach's daughter. But the most important thing that I am is a baseball coach's wife.

I am a warrior wife.

It took me a year and a half of marriage to figure out what that really means. And it all occurred to me during girl talk on the way to church with my kindred-spirit Jennifer. She's the only one who really GETS my crazy love and passion for the game of baseball. She is a warrior wife too, in everything meaning of the word.

She said it so matter-of-factly.  "Baseball is #1. He's gonna tell you, you are number one. But you and I both know, we're not. And that's ok."

A baseball coach eats and breathes baseball. And so must his wife.  I think I had such a hard time with baseball/tax season last year, because I wanted to be number one - and there was just not enough time in the day for that. When I changed my attitude, and let baseball be #1, and supported Josh in all his goals, passions, and aspirations, all of sudden I started to feel like #1 again.  It was that whole love-and-respect thing. He felt respected when I finally understood that he still loved me, even when he was at the field or on the phone with recruits all day. Being a baseball coach means sacrifice, and long hours, and little pay. And the most loving thing I can do for my husband is to get up and go to work every day, be in the stands as much as I can, and be understanding when he has to take the recruiting phone call at 11pm at night.

But it's not all sacrifice. It is moments like this weekend...when I'm gripping the seat in front of me, bases loaded, one out, in the bottom of the 13th inning against the #8 ranked NAIA team in the nation, and we're tied 3-3.   And one of those Corban recruits Josh talked to at 11pm at night smashes the ball to deep right center for the game-winning hit.... it's all worth it. Jennifer and I fist pound and agree, we could spend EVERY DAY at the baseball field.

When Josh is a coach of a D-1 program or an MLB team one day, and someone is willing to pay money to hear our story, I'll tell them, it all started right here.