Moving the Spot

Baseball season begins today, and even though it’s not my favorite sport, the game of baseball has many good things going for it, despite the looong games and the even looonger season that won’t end until October. Baseball humor (yes, it’s a thing) and baseball-as-life analogies could add something to our Lenten journey.  I don’t mean to be irreverent (well, maybe a little bit), but Jesus did use some pretty unusual symbols to help illustrate life lessons- a mustard seed, a storage barn, a withered fig tree.  If Jesus had ever seen a baseball game, surely he wouldn’t have omitted that rich source for parables. So even if you’re not a baseball fan, come along with me to the ballpark of life today.  We are rounding third and headed for home, after all, as Lent draws to an end. I’ll try not to throw you a curve ball. Join me as I add another baseball-as-life story to the line-up card.

It was late in the 2017 season and near the end of a hot and humorless game. The Texas Rangers were being blown out 22-10 by the Miami Marlins, and fans and players were restless. Famous not only for his skills at third base but for his clubhouse and in-game antics, future Hall of Famer Adrian Beltre was the next man up to bat. Suddenly, the umpire stopped the game. Beltre was not standing in the official on-deck circle (At The Ballpark, it was a rubber circular mat).  I guess that’s a big deal and Beltre did move over to the circle…and then proceeded to pick it up and move it over to where he had originally been standing. The crowd, teams and announcers burst into laughter, but the umpire was not amused.  Beltre was thrown out of the game, which may have been his goal all along.  Instead of moving to the spot, Beltre just moved the spot to where he was.  Pretty funny, and not a good idea if you are playing baseball, but a great idea for composing a modern day parable.

The Spot is always over there– That’s the place where I am supposed to be, which is any place but where I am, doing what I am currently doing.  My Spot– what I dream or desire that will keep me playing the game, is always over there, not too far away but just out of reach. If I were someplace else, with somebody else, with some other job, living in some other town, in a different church…If I were younger, healthier, or weren’t so busy, then I could be truly fulfilling my heart’s desire and be in my spiritual happy place. Someday there will finally be enough time for me to travel over to that Spot.  But here I am, standing around, usually working hard, sometimes goofing around, and often just swinging my bat and feeling discouraged because the Spot is still over there and I am getting older and not any closer to it.  I can see it, but I am bound by rules or my own limited vision. If only I had a little more time, or a few more resources, or less demands on my energy, I reason, I could get to that perfect Spot and all would be well.

It suddenly occurs to me:  What if I just went over there and got that Spot and moved it to right where I am?  What if that mysterious Spot, the time, place or opportunity doesn’t have to be someplace else?  What if I move it? The Spot suddenly is here and I’m standing on holy ground so to speak. Everything changes.  Where I am becomes the perfect place to live as fully as I can, right here, right now.   Hmmm, I’m tempted- and then I think of what I have to lose: playing in a looong game, slowly losing my focus and draining my energy—And what I have to gain: adding some humor and fun and opening my spirit up to the possibilities of a more fulfilled and joyful life. This decision is a slam-dunk (Oops- wrong sport!)

Author and theologian Sister Joan Chittister captured the wisdom of moving the spot: The phrase ‘Bloom where you are planted’ needs to be changed to ‘Plant yourself where you know you can bloom.’ ¹ Chittister’s words are another way of saying…. move the Spot.  Give yourself permission to create the environment where you can live the amazing life you were created to live right where you are. Something may need to change in order for you to bloom. Change it.

I march right over there, pick that Spot up and put it right where I need it, beneath my feet. I’m sure I’ll get in trouble, me and my Spot, and I do.  I get kicked out of doing things the same old way, and of thinking that whatever I am meant to be doing is always just beyond my reach. The penalty isn’t really all that bad. I just can’t play the same game anymore, and aren’t I glad… I thought it would go on forever!  I have now planted myself where I know I can bloom. I’ve got some work to do to truly flourish, but I sacrifice the fantasy of the future for the reality of the precious present. 

I am standing on my Spot, a mischievous little grin on my face, and a renewed burst of energy flowing through me.  I was pretty bored and restless with that other mindset. I don’t want to spend time longing for what is out of reach, searching for the comforts that do not content me.¹ I’m no longer going by the rules I foolishly created for myself. I do not live a predestined life inside a rigid circle. God is not an umpire, blowing a whistle and pointing at me with judgement and penalties.  God offers abundance and mercy and love… and a way to share those things, wherever I am, whatever my life stage or circumstance. In partnership with the Divine, I tap the resources to create an environment where I can flourish.

Beltre was “spot-on” that day. He knew if you were not on the right spot, something needed to move—either the Spot or you.  Here’s to laughter and fun that shows up even in the disciplined-focused season of Lent. Baseball? Lent?  I thought I might not even get to first base with this idea, but it looks like I may have hit a home run…   Okay, okay, enough already.   

This tile has meant a lot of different things to me since I painted it with watercolor pencils.  It always symbolizes freedom and joy, but today… it is The Spot. There is always a Spot. We can move it and shape it. We can stand in a new place or in an old place with new vision.

O God, thank you for the gift of humor that inserts itself in surprising ways into this season of contemplation and sacrifice.  Thank you for ebullience, and joy, and happiness, and even for baseball.  Amen.