For the little church volleyball league I find myself playing in.
We play in a gym in a church, the gym behind the kitchen. It's carpeted. We pray before we play and large tattooed men in muscle shirts who love Jesus tell us about the ministry of the church and then we bang balls around in the name of Jesus.
It's even the marooney color of my church that I grew up playing basketball in. Felt weirdly good. Like I can't believe I forgot that this happens around the midwest, I can't believe I forgot. I'm so glad it still happens. After the too-cool-for-school days at washu, the snobby anti small town place for your mind to 'expand', I'm so glad we got to play with Josh, the mentally handicapped sixth man on the other team who never ever stopped smilling the entire time.
The small towners got it right.
On completely different note, I find it ODD that we cant end sentences with prepositions... sometimes there just isn't a better way to say it. Anybody with me? It seems completely arbitrary.
1 comment:
Church league volleyball is the best. In the name of God, I will spike this shot through your face.
Amen.
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