Why not bring it to Him?

Here is a not-so-great truth about me:

When I'm tired, frustrated, overwhelmed, or overworked, I can become very impatient and mean.  I know this about myself.
I know that whenever I feel this way I need to think long and hard before I speak, pay close attention to my body language, and be on guard for the thoughts that I allow myself to entertain.  But when I am in that moment, when I am overcome with any of the aforementioned emotions, it becomes so stinking difficult to maintain my composure, and many times I fail.  The times I do lose it, when I make that callous remark, when I roll my eyes and sigh with disdain, when I snap at those around me, I always (eventually) feel badly about it afterward.  I do my best to make amends, but the reality is the damage has been done.

I don't want to be this way.  I want to be type of person that is kind after a bad day, that is loving even when I'm exhausted.  I want to have a certain grace under fire, but even though I want all of that, I am very hesitant to pray about it.


You may wonder why that is. I've been asking myself why this is the case for some time now.  Why is it difficult for me to ask God to help me with this?  Don't I trust Him?  Hasn't He helped me before?  Why, silly woman, are you so unwilling bring this to God?

After much thought, I think I've finally figured out that the ugly truth is this:


I'm not afraid God won't answer my prayers, my true fear is that He will.

See in order to be kind after having a bad day, I have to have a bad day.  I have to have a day where the kiddo is being stubborn, things go wrong at work, and my hubby and I have a big argument. 
I have to allow myself to be placed in situations where I become tired, overwhelmed, or frustrated, so God can then give me the grace I need to overcome my flaws. It is essentially volunteering for discomfort, and I don't know about you, but I do NOT like discomfort.

I would much rather have a magic wand waved over me that instantly transforms me, and fills me with a knowing that I will be kind and patient in difficult circumstances, without actually going through difficult circumstances. But that doesn't seem to be the way life works, now does it?

Maturation is a process and sometimes there is discomfort.

A caterpillar doesn't become a butterfly instantaneously.  It takes a bit of a struggle and time.  A piece of coal is placed under intense heat and a lot of pressure in order to become a diamond,  and as much as I would like, I don't foresee any magic patience wands being waved over me in the near future. 

So what's a girl to do?  I don't know.  I don't have some succinct answer to my issue here, this post is merely me thinking aloud. 

I think for now, one thing I can do is start small and ask God to take away this fear I have of discomfort, and you know what?  I absolutely believe that He will.

Miracles Happen

If you haven't read my last post, please take a minute to do so and then take a moment to pray for baby Ryleigh.
----

Although I initially created this post as inspiration for the Cox family, it is really for anyone.  In what sometimes seems like a crazy world, my wish is that this post gives us faith and hope that miracles really do happen.

When Ian was born at 24 weeks gestation, he weighed in at a whopping 1lb 2oz and was 12.5 inches long
He had a grade 2 brain bleed a few days after birth, had to be resuscitated 3 times, had major surgery at 1 month old, was on a ventilator for 6 weeks, and stayed in the NICU for 3 and a half months.

That was then...


(click photo to enlarge)

This is now...

(click photo to enlarge)

Ian is now a healthy, happy, and active 2 (almost 3) year old.  He is strong-willed, curious, and affectionate.  He has the most contagious laugh you have ever heard, a smile that will warm your heart, and although I know I'm biased, I think he is pretty darn cute.

Yep, I'm a believer in miracles

I don't know them, but I know how they feel

I'm asking whoever happens to stumble across this blog to take this moment -not 20 minutes from now, not later today, not tomorrow- but this very moment to say a prayer for the Cox Family. 

Recently their newest addition, Ryleigh, was born at 24 weeks gestation and is currently in the NICU.  As the title of the post states, I don't know this family personally.  I only know their story because they are a friend of a friend.  But while I may not know them, my goodness do I know how they feel. 

And while it would be really easy for me to reminisce and relive all of the emotions, the heartache, the pain, the joy, and ultimately the victory of my own 24 weeker's NICU stay, I really don't want this post to be about me or my family.  All I want to do is cover this family in prayer, ask that this time be used to strengthen them, not shake them, and pray that God grants them the faith to know that their baby girl will be completely healthy, completely happy, and completely beautiful.  Please join in prayer with me.

On the subject of doubt

For a while now I've been silently stalking Redlefty's blog Megaloi -- "Great Things".  He recently wrote a great post on the subject of doubt.  I must admit, I've pondered (and continue to ponder) every single point he presented.  Here's a snippet:

..."If God exists, I'm not sure I'm worshipping the right one

Look at human history and notice how many different gods have been named, praised and defended. There are thousands (millions when you include Hinduism). Is it possible that Christianity has it right? Yes, but the odds aren't overwhelming in our favor.

Even within Christianity, there are so many different perceptions of God. Benevolent father, vengeful deity, distant superpower... some Christians think God is just a big pile of love and others think God intentionally leveled Haiti with an earthquake to punish them for sin. That's a wide, wide range."

Check out the rest of his post "What I'm not sure about". It's a good read and his honesty is refreshing

Food for thought

One of the things Dan and I were forewarned about was that it is quite common for former preemies to have oral aversions as they grow older.  I guess being on a ventilator for 6 weeks, and having tubes shoved down your throat for the first 3 months of your life will do that to you.

Ian's oral issues are pretty mild.  He has some texture issues, and had to have some therapy early on because he had issues with chewing food, but he finally got the hang of it.  Perfect technique.  The thing is though, just because he knows HOW to chew, doesn't mean that he WANTS to chew.  It's just not his favorite thing, and sometimes he will forgo eating altogether if there is a lot of chewing involved.  That, my friends, is a habit we are trying to break.

On the menu for dinner last night was rosemary chicken, potatoes, and mixed veggies.  On the chewing scale, it ranks as moderate in my book.

As I prepared Ian's plate I said a a short, silent prayer:  "Please let Ian eat a good amount of food tonight".

I placed Ian's plate on the table, yelled out "Time for dinner", and without any fuss he got into his chair.  Dan said a prayer for the food, we all said Amen, and began to eat.

Ian picked up his fork and took a bite of chicken.  Sweet!
A few seconds later he scooped up some potatoes and shoveled those into his mouth.  Score!
It took a few minutes of intense chewing, but he successfully swallowed his food.  Yippee!

On to the second bite:  Ian did another chicken and potato combo, only this time he needed a lot more coaxing and cajoling get him to swallow his food.  He finally did it though.  Whew, what a relief.  Or so I thought.  Here is the abbreviated version of what happened next.

Ian: Done! Done!  Down please.
Me: Ian you need to eat some more food
Ian: No thank you.  Done.  Down please
Dan (putting more food on Ian's fork): Here Ian, take a bite
Ian (shrieking and crying): No!  Done.
Me (frustrated): Fine Ian, you can go to bed hungry

I helped him get out of the chair, told him to go pick out a book, and that I would be there to read it to him in a few minutes.

*SIGH* 

"Don't worry", Dan said.  "I'm telling you, there is going to come a day where we are going to worry about how to KEEP him fed.  When he'll be eating us out of a house and home."

"Yeah, yeah" I thought to myself. 

I was frustrated...

And tired...

And if we're being completely honest, annoyed.

It was obvious it was going to be one of those nights where the kid just didn't eat much.  I was simply going to have to shake it off.

I walked into the living room and Ian already had his book picked out.  I plopped down next to him on the couch, got comfortable, and we began to read.

Dan walked in a few moments later with a plate in hand  (don't worry, we eat in our living room, it's cool)  About halfway through the story, Dan stuck out a forkful of food.  "Hey Ian, you want to take a bite?"  Ian happily leaned over, devoured what was on the fork, and immediately got back into the story.  A couple of pages later, Dan gave him another forkful and again Ian gobbled it down.  Fast forward a couple of books and most of the food that was on the plate Dan brought in was gone.

Well what do ya know?  Looks like the kid ended up eating a good amount of food after all. 

Moral of the story: Just because things don't happen exactly the way you expect them to, doesn't mean you won't get the end result you were seeking and praying for.

In my mind, in order for Ian to eat a good amount of food, the family had to be gathered around the dinner table and he would eat bite after bite. When Ian only had two bites at the table, I figured the night was failure (food wise) and chalked it up to a lesson in patience.

I think I'm starting realize that it's my job to have faith, but that it is God's job to work out the details.

Oh, and the second moral of the story:  My husband is a freaking genius.

Happy New Year

http://www.flickr.com/photos/macills/ / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Merry Happy Holiday of your choosing. Or not

I grew up in a religious tradition that didn't believe in Christmas. Oh don't get me wrong, my family and I exchanged gifts every year, we even put up a tree when I was a small child (at my mother's insistence, but even that didn't last too long), but it was made quite clear from early on that we were in no way celebrating Jesus' birth. You see that would be wrong.

Wrong, you ask? Why would celebrating the birth of Christ be wrong?

Well, the religious group I was reared in believed since Christ never explicitly asked us celebrate his birth as a religious holiday, if you chose to do so you would be participating in "unauthorized worship" of God; And we all remember what happened to Nadab and Abihu when they offered unauthorized fire (worship) to God, right?
What Christ DID ask us to remember, they argued, was his death and resurrection, and the way to do that was through Communion, not some trite holiday that Christ never even instituted. Combine all of that with the pagan origins of Christmas* and the Jeremiah 10:2-4 passage that obviously condemned Christmas trees, and what you had was an airtight case against Christmas.

So instead of saying "Merry Christmas", I was taught to say "Happy Holidays", not to give credence to any other religious celebration mind you, but to declare that we were not celebrating Christmas.

When searching for wrapping paper, we had to be sure to not pick anything that was overtly religious, and you didn't dare buy anything with a Santa Claus on it. Oh, and by the way, we weren't buying Christmas presents, we were buy presents for the holidays.

But there was a problem.

I LOVED CHRISTMAS. I still do.

Christmas trees whether big or small, ornate or simple, I adore them.
Nothing thrills me more than to hear a beautiful choir or soloist sing Silent Night, Joy to the World, or Oh Holy Night.
Christmas Lights: LOVE, LOVE, LOVE THEM. I used to beg my parents to take the long way home so that I could ooh and ahh at all of the elaborate decorations.
And even though my church never had a Candlelight Christmas Eve service, when I had the chance to watch them on TV, I thought they were absolutely beautiful.
Of course as a child I enjoyed waking up to presents, but honestly that was just the icing on an already delicious cake.

Over the years I began to notice a shift during the Christmas season. To be fair, I can't say that there was a definite change of mindset, it may be that I simply became more aware of what was going on, but people seemed to focus a little less on the birth of Christ (for those that celebrated it religiously), and more on presents. Instead of candlelight services being shown on television, there seemed to be more and more commercials advertising some super sale of the week.

And then the biggie:

People began to say "Happy Holidays", in an attempt to acknowledge other religious holidays *GASP*

It was official. The war had begun.

Nowadays it's commonplace to hear that we Christians should be on a mission to "take back Christmas". That instead of saying "Happy Holidays" to the sales clerk, you should look him or her square in the eye and say "Merry Christmas. Jesus loves you". And I have read many a blog post, email, leaflet, you name it, reminding me that "Jesus is the reason for the season."


Can I tell you a something? It's just between us right?


I really don't think Jesus gives a rat's you-know-what about whether we choose to celebrate his birth on December 25th.


There, I said it.


As much as I love Christmas and decided as an adult to take time to reflect on Jesus' birth, life, and death, I don't think he cares one way or another.
And while I may have issues with many aspects of my religious upbringing, it's true: Jesus never told us that we needed to celebrate his birth, so if you choose not to do so, I think that's perfectly acceptable.

What I DO believe matters each day of the year, not just during the holiday season, is that we all strive to be joyful, compassionate, and loving people.

So it is with that spirit that I say to anyone reading this

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

*note: If you have never heard of the pagan origins of Christmas and are interested, feel free to google that phrase for details. To be frank, I'm just not interested in linking to it.

Because sometimes I just need to shut up

If you are reading this, it probably means you subscribe to this blog in a reader -and if you haven't, you really should. I mean really, why torture yourself? Can't you see that I'm a bit of a flake that posts sporadically :)

Anyway, I just wanted to drop a line to say "Hey, I'm still here."

No need to worry, I haven't been attending any of my infamous parties, but sometimes life gets busy, and the unexpected happens, so while I've had tons of things running through my head, sometimes the best thing for me to do is to simply shut up. So that's what I've done. But don't fret, I imagine I'll be back soon to overthink and overanalyze this thing that we call life.

Bits and Pieces

1. A few people have asked where Ian's Halloween pics are this year, but we don't have any. My Grandmother's funeral actually fell on Halloween, and after travel, the funeral, lunch, and spending time with immediate and extended family, we were too tired to do the trick or treating thing. We went back to my parent's house to hand out candy to the kids in their neighborhood. Initially I was feeling pretty guilty about not getting Ian dressed up, but that guilt pretty much disappeared when I realized how much fun he was having handing out candy and playing with the kids that came to my parent's door. The blogger Momma in me almost whipped out the camera to take pictures, but I made a conscious decision not to. I think sometimes in an effort to document what's going on, I actually miss the opportunity to experience what is going on, so I decided not to take any pictures and just be. Hopefully, that makes sense.

2. In an effort to become an even bigger narcissist I joined facebook, and now my worlds are colliding. You do remember that Seinfeld episode, right? If not, let George Costanza refresh your memory.
I have friends from high school, college, the church I grew up in as a kid, and the church I attend now all "gathered" in the same "location". It's enough to give me a headache.
Oh, and what's the deal with people I don't know sending me a friend request just because we have mutual friends? Dude! I don't know you. Why do we need to be virtual friends? I don't get it. And even more importantly, what happens if someone remembers you and sends you a friend request, but you don't really remember them. What do you do then? Ugh, it's too much pressure. This can't be good for my health.


3. Last week (or the week before, I can't quite remember) I was in the kitchen and Ian was in the living room. The TV was playing a recording of a NBA basketball game. After a minute or two of watching the game, Ian picked up the remote, brought it to me so I could change the channel, and when I inquired about what he wanted to watch, he said "Football". I could hear Dan's smile all the way in the other room.

Remembering my Grandma

Some people have their wedding rehearsal dinners at big fancy restaurants. Dan and I had ours at my Grandma's house.

Lots of people have their child's first birthday celebration in their own home. Ian had (one of) his at my Grandma's house.

Christmas, Easter, New Years, Fish Frys, Barbecues, do you know where the family gathered? Yep, at Grandma's house.

And now, so suddenly, so unexpectedly, my Grandma is no longer at Grandma's house.

Instead, she is in a house far more grand, far more precious, and far more permanent than her earthly home.

Instead of being at Grandma's house, she is now in the Father's house, and that simple thought can make me smile even when I find myself misty-eyed.

She was one of a kind, was deeply loved, and will be greatly missed

Let the 15 minutes begin

Yesterday was the annual NICU Reunion at the hospital where Ian was born. While we were enjoying the festivities, we were interviewed by the local news. You can check it out here:

Video Link


P.S. Sorry for the external link. I didn't see the code on their site to embed the video on the page and I didn't feel like trying to figure it out.

Road Trip Pics

The week before last we took a week off from work, loaded up the kid and went out on the road for a vacation. We didn't venture outside of Texas, but we had a good time. Here are a few of my favorite pics (click to enlarge).


Dan and Ian on the beach in Galveston



Ian hiding from us outside The Aquarium restaurant in Kemah.
I can't look at this picture without laughing



Eating ice cream at the Blue Bell plant in Brenham


Funny story: We were visiting some friends in Houston when a very tired Ian decided he needed a nap. After a few minutes of effort, he pulled a cushion off of their couch, placed it on the floor, and passed out.



You see that face? That is Ian's irritated face.
He was having quite the time chasing his new found friends around the park in Georgetown. So when his pesky Momma finally caught up with him and asked him to pose for a picture, he was not happy :)

Why didn't I try this sooner?

I had a definite "Duh!" moment today.

I was preparing dinner (meatloaf was on the menu tonight) with my assistant chef, when I realized I hadn't grabbed the breadcrumbs from the pantry. As I turned to walk into the pantry, I glanced at the counter and saw an almost empty bread bag on the counter. There were two end pieces left in the bag.

I'll admit it. I'm a discriminating bread eater. As a general rule I don't eat the ends of bread. On occasion I'll eat an open faced sandwich using the end, but it's very rare. There you have it. Sometimes the truth is ugly.

Anyway, probably inspired by some show on the food network in my subconscious, I decided to use the leftover ends to make breadcrumbs.
I grabbed my cheap Hamilton Beach food chopper, tore the bread into pieces, put the lid on, and turned it on high for, oh I don't know, 30 seconds or so. And then an amazing thing happened.

Right before my very eyes I had breadcrumbs.

Whole wheat breadcrumbs.

Breadcrumbs that probably cost all of .25 cents

So can anyone tell me why I've been spending 3 bucks a pop on store bought breadcrumbs? Anyone? No I didn't think so.

Oh, and you know what else I did? I added some Italian seasoning, a pinch of sea salt, and voilà, seasoned breadcrumbs.

It's the little things in life I tell ya. The little things

Things that make you say "Aww"

Yesterday morning after washing Ian's face, I began the not too terrible task of brushing his teeth. Oddly enough he loves to brush and have his teeth brushed, he's weird that way. About halfway through I noticed that he was trying to say something I couldn't quite make out. "What are you trying to say Pooh?", I inquired as I removed the toothbrush from his mouth. He looked at me, and with a very serious expression, yelled out "HUG!", and then quickly threw his arms around my neck and gave me a tight squeeze. As I returned the embrace of my little one I was overcome with the warm mushy feeling, as I call it.

"Thank you Ian. That was so sweet." I said, as I gave him a kiss on the cheek. He smiled his cheesy little smile, and as I went to finish brushing his teeth, he decided to bless me with 3 additional hugs, each time yelling out "HUG!" right before.

So there you have it folks. Another story that may not mean a whole lot to you, but means the world to me.



photo from hien_it

When Mom is away...

The boys will play

Hey Mom, did you know I could climb a 6ft ladder all by myself?

Hey Mom, you know how you won't let me stand in the swing? Dad will, and it's fun.

I mean REALLY REALLY fun!

Time for cookies

(excuse the grainy pic to the left, it was taken on a cell cam)

A couple of weeks ago the control panel on our stove went out and as a result we could no longer use the oven. Since it was an older stove that was already there when we moved into the house, we opted to get a new one instead of replacing it. When the new stove was finally delivered you know what we had to do don't you? Christen the new stove by baking chocolate chip cookies, of course. Dark chocolate chip cookies to be exact. How else are we supposed to get our antioxidants?

Anyway, since Ian loves to help with, well, anything, I enlisted his help and we got to work.

Are those cookies done yet?

Yummy, I like cookies. Oh, are you taking a picture of me?

Ok, I'm ready to take my picture now

M.I.A.

I haven't been posting that much here lately.

If I said things had been hectic at work and just calmed down in the past few weeks, so I now, finally, have the time to post, I'd be telling the truth.
If I said I had been busy with a nice visit from my Father-in-Law, followed by us packing up and heading out on the road ourselves, that would be true too.
If I said I needed to prioritize family time, paying bills, and laundry before surfing the web and blogging, again, that would be the truth.

But if I'm being HONEST, I mean completely honest, none of those are the real reasons I haven't been posting. The real reason you haven't seen me around these parts is because I've been spending time with some friends I have made.

For a little while now, not exactly sure how long, I've been receiving invitations to a very private, very exclusive party. When I first started receiving invitations to these uber-exclusive gatherings, I would think about going, but would always decline. "Nah," I would say, "I have too much going on to really make time for this", and I wouldn't really give it much thought. But one day my curiosity got the best of me and I decided to attend.

On my first visit I met a woman that had given birth to a very premature baby -- it was also her first child. We had so much to talk about. We talked about the lingering twinge of guilt for not being able to carry our kids to term, the different types of therapy our kids had been through, the current delays they were experiencing. We talked about our concerns for their future development, and thoughts about family planning. That's when she told me that she had always sworn she would never have an only child, but now that she has lived the reality of having a premature baby, she was rethinking that theory. "Is it fair to even think about having another child if there is even the slightest possibility this could happen again?" she asked. I could only sigh and shrug my shoulders. I didn't have an answer for her and it broke my heart.

At the next get-together I was all set to talk Mrs. Preemie Mommy, only she wasn't there. Instead, I struck up a conversation with a working (outside the home) mother. We commiserated about trying to manage all of our responsibilities. We tried to figure out how to balance spending 9-10 hours away from home Monday through Friday with having quality time with our families, doing laundry, paying bills, cleaning the house, cooking, maintaining friendships, exercising, and much, much more. At the end of the conversation we walked away feeling even more overwhelmed than when we started.

After looking around and not seeing Mrs. Preemie Mommy or Mrs. Overwhelmed at the next gathering, I didn't know what to do or who to talk to. I didn't have to wait long before Mrs. Questioning Christian showed up. "I believe in God", she said "so much that sometimes it seems like I can feel His presence right beside me. I love moments like that. But then there are other times, times when I don't feel His presence at all. I pray for clear guidance, for direction, and months later I'm still clueless."

Yep Mrs. Questioning Christian, I feel your pain.

And those were just a few of the ladies I met. I also conversed with Mrs. Failed perfectionist, Mrs. I-am-the-only-one-that-feels-like-this, Mrs. Indecisive, Mrs. Fear of failure, Mrs. I-don't-have-any-friends, and I tended to chat quite frequently with Mrs. The-grass-on-their-lawn-is-so-much-greener.

Is it becoming clear yet? Yeah, I imagined it would.

As I'm sure you've surmised, I haven't been around these parts because I have been way too busy attending my very own pity party. I never intended to stay long, but a funny thing happens when you begin to dwell on your shortcomings and problems -- perceived or real-- you tend to elicit a more-the-merrier attitude and will find yourself making room for more negative thoughts to join in on the festivities.

Like attracts like and all that jazz.

So instead of hanging out with those friends, I've been spending some time with Mrs. Gratitude. She's been reminding me of all the things, the countless things, the oh so many things, I am grateful for. She's been keeping me in line when I feel the urge to strike up a conversation with my pessimistic pals, and when I'm tempted to feel like I've failed to live up to an unreasonable expectation I set for myself, she has reminded me that there are people out there (people in my own home even) that think I'm just swell, and it's OK for me to think the same.

Gone, but not forgotten

1958-2009

Say what you will about Michael Jackson, but let's face it: He was an amazing song writer, a superb performer, an impeccable producer, and in my opinion, the best all around entertainer of my generation. I'm sure he will be missed by his family, friends, and fans, but his music will live on forever. You better believe that.

Yesterday to celebrate the life and musical genius of Michael Jackson, I danced to Beat it and Billy Jean, rocked out to Dirty Diana and Scream, became introspective listening to Man in the Mirror and Heal the World, and reminisced with Hubby as we told our stories about watching the Thriller video for the first time.
And then around 7:45 pm, when the You Rock My World video started playing and my silly 2 year old jumped up and began dancing and giggling, all I could do was look at him, smile, and say "You have no idea kid. You really have no idea."

RIP MJ

Photo from earnest70six

I was robbed!

Stolen Item: A delicious panko breaded tilapia fish sandwich, served on a slightly toasted wheat bun, with homemade tarter sauce, a dab of ketchup, and a sliver of swiss cheese.

The prime suspect:


It all started off innocent enough, or so I thought. The person in the photo above joined me on the couch after waking from his afternoon nap. He looked at my beloved sandwich with a certain sparkle in his eye. In hindsight, that should have tipped me off immediately.
Anyway, after a few seconds of sitting quietly, he leaned in and as fast as lightning took a small bite out of my sandwich as I was still holding it.

But wait, there's more.

While I sat in shock, this little person seized the moment, and in one fell swoop took the entire sandwich out of my hands and began to chomp on it.

It was blatant thievery I tell ya...In my own household...On a Sunday!

Good Luck Charm

As I alluded to in my previous post, my Mother's Day afternoon was spent with my two favorite guys at the Houston Rockets vs. LA Lakers playoff game.

Game 4 was awesome! The Rockets took charge from the very beginning and never let up. There were 3-pointers galore, great defense, and at one point a 29 point lead by the Rockets. It was everything a girl could dream of.

Now I know many were concerned when they heard that Yao would be out for the rest of the season, and I, admittedly, was a little worried about the outcome of game 4, but then I remembered something:

Ian is the Rockets good luck charm.

You want proof? How about this. Every time Ian makes an appearance at a Rockets game they have dominated. Every single time. The fact that he has only been to one other Rockets game prior to this one is immaterial. The point is, if the Rockets want to win, they need my kid (and his parents of course) at the game. Period. And that my friends, is the exact logic I'm going to use when I write the Rockets organization to persuade them to give us season tickets.

Anyway, enough babbling, here are a couple of blurry cell cam pics of Ian and his b-ball skills in the play area at the Toyota Center.


Look at that face. He's all business. Just itching to get out on the court



Do you see the grip he has on that ball?



He's lightning fast. So fast that I wasn't ready and only caught the picture after the ball was already out of view.
And look at all his adoring fans in the background.