(This article appeared in the most recent edition of the Baptist & Reflector)
Fall has arrived, bringing with it football on all levels. We’re an NFL household, fans of the Minnesota Vikings. As I write these words, I want you to get a snapshot of my day. I wore a purple Vikings scarf to work to celebrate the fact that we are driving to Nashville this evening to watch the Vikings play the Titans. I also packed a change of clothes for the game and had to decide which of my two Vikings jerseys to wear. On social media, I not only follow the team, but also the individual players. Put it all together and you get a pretty good idea of how much I enjoy the Vikings.
But that wasn’t always the case for me. I grew up in a sports-neutral family. To be embrassingly honest, football was that activity on the field I endured until halftime. That’s when the marching band took the field. I went to almost every game to watch my brother march for four years until it was finally my turn.
In college, I started to date Kevin (my husband). As dating got “serious,” I realized that football had the potential of igniting a lifetime’s supply of arguments because I could care less about grown men chasing after an oblong ball.
As we entered premarital counseling, we read all the standard passages and books, many based on Ephesians 5. I spent time with married women who complained when football season began. And I spent time with married women who loved the sport as much as their husbands. I decided I needed to be the latter in order to look forward to the fall season rather than dread it.