Time Keeps On Slippin'....

I walked around the fields at one of the local high schools early this morning, catching coaches and players for a preview I'm working on and the excitement of kids trying out for different sports was amazing. As I saw kids milling around with their parents and their health forms, meeting coaches and their future teammates who aare ready to get an early start on their season, it reminded me of one totally shell-shocking fact - 10 years ago, around this very same time I began my senior year of high school with the first football practice. Yes, the last class of the last decade of the last century of the second millennium.

1999.

One of our favorite quotes for our class came from Memphis Bleek's verse on the "Money, Cash, Hoes" remix (y'all can't do nothin with this here/for 1, I pack three 9s like the year) and we used it liberally whenever we felt the need to emphasize our seniority over the youngins...they were so the future. We were now, as in 1999 now. My classmates probably don't even remember much about senior year, but I'm still holding on to one experience that's truthfully responsible for much of my issues with women. Don't expect me to elaborate on that until the 10-year anniversary of that comes up, but you'll know it when you see it.

That drama along with missing out on marching because of a geometry credit that I was screwed out of and constant torture by one of the most popular guys at school at the time made my senior year not so fun, but I came out of that alright. If I had only realized back then that I was strong and that God was watching me, I could've saved myself a lot of stress and strain, but I guess better late than never.

I think about Chris in 1998 and Chris in 2008 and I haven't changed that much, but I've changed somewhat. I think around that time is when my shell really grew into a fortress, and that was a bad thing. I'm working on tearing it down now, I've made some significant progress in deconstruction, but I really would like to get the courage to blow the doggone thing to debris and worry about cleanup later. The only folks from high school to really get past that wall were my two best friends, and we're still tight to this day, even though I didn't make it easy for them at all.

I felt so old watching the football team's defensive drills, if someone asked me to "chop it up, dive, roll, left, right, up" these days? The gas face would be serious. It'll be interesting to see come the spring if we have a 10 year reunion. Would I go? Maybe. Would I resist temptation to throw my success in the face of my tormenters? Yes. I'm thankful for what I've been through, both positive and negative. It's making me better day by day, and I'm not gonna impede His work in a fleeting moment of personal triumph. High School was so long ago. Now DSU's homecoming in about two months? I'm just gonna have to ask Him for forgiveness afterwards. Because Big Daddy is showing up and showing out!

I really am thinking about a series of entries about my senior year of high school because we do have some stories worth telling. Names might have to be changed to protect the not-so-innocent, but there will be some stuff. Y'all be sure to hold me to it. It'll be to your benefit :)