Sun rising gently over the horizon
Slowly drying dew on the morning grass
Where lines are drawn and goals are set.
Players move through their pre-game dance steps
Rhythmically, gracefully, at just the proper pace
To produce focus, increased breath, and sweat.
Parents gather quietly with coffee in hand.
How’s your mom? Has the cancer diminished?
What’s happening at work? Are you traveling much?
How’s your family? How’s your heart?
Players stand opposite one another,
The whistle blows and the ball rolls
As kids who have worked tirelessly during the week
Come to play the game they
And millions of others love.
It’s an ecumenical sanctuary,
A multi-generational menagerie gathered
In this holy place of grass and ground,
Air and sky.
It’s a place where hope is realized,
Giants are felled,
Grit is developed,
And where the sounds of creation weave together
To form a resounding song of praise through
The buzz of bees and whispers of breeze,
Grandma giggles and little brother wiggles,
And quiet momma sighs
As they watch their offspring do the holy hard
In this thing called soccer.
Prayers are spoken,
And Praise pronounced
As worship spontaneously erupts
For the One who reveals
And crafts spiritual transformation
Through ground and game,
As for me,
Seeing the holy and sacred in the secular
And realizing rest comes when I rest in Grace
Through community and creation…This is Sabbath.