Therefore, nothing brings me more pleasure than to cheer on my man.
I ask him about work and tell him he is doing a great job. I thank him for his hard-work and grease covered hands. Secretly, I adore those hands. Rough, covered in grease, manly . . . ok, I am getting sidetracked.
I encourage him when he races. I try to say things like, “Beat ’em all, baby. Go Grease Lightning Go. She’s real fine, my 409.” Instead of saying, “be safe!” Racing and safety are oxymorons.
I even ride along sometimes when he is racing. Seriosuly, like in the car. The first time definitely gave me that stomach in your throat sorta feeling. I’m better now. I usually laugh, while simultaneously praying and gripping and handle that is nearby. He needs that “shoulder to shoulder time” as Love and Respect would call it.
I enjoy cheering him on. It makes me happy. I am his pit girl, his personal cheerleader, his #1 fan.
That is why I watch his softball games every Monday night. I started this ritual when we were dating and I’ve never stopped. He plays on a city league team with men from our church. I love this opportunity for him to fellowship and for me to let him.
I rarely miss a game. They get worried if I’m not there. They always say hi, tease, and let me sit in the dugout. They pretend interest in my crocheting (which I often bring with me) and if I bring treats, they eat them before the second inning is over.
My man likes to hit home runs. Yes, plural. He typically hits a few a game. He is strong. He has big muscles. He is manly. OK, sidetracked again. He says his wedding ring gives him powers. The teammates all concur that my presence in his life contributes mightily to these home runs. I’m a good luck charm.
His mother also attends his games faithfully. I think she and I should get coordinating outfits and maybe pom pons.
I suppose cheering is in my blood. When I was 2, I was a cheerleader for Halloween. When I was 11, I was a cheerleader for Halloween. Then I cheered in High School. Then in College. Now in Marriage.
It may seem like a small thing to attend these city league games, but it is a big thing for my man. So, I throw on the layers (there is this nasty thing called fog), grab a skein of yarn, and head out to cheer him on. I hope it never changes. I remember people telling us, “Just wait until you’re married” as if marriage would suddenly erase all of the kind and helpful things we do for one another. I don’t plan on ever erasing this one.
It reminds me of the Proverbs 31 woman (my role model). Her husband trusts in her, She brings him good, He is respected, He praises her. I hope, through the power of Christ, that I can give these things to my husband.
After all, I am his #1 fan!