still focused on perspective

“And with the first selection in the 2002 NFL Draft, the Houston Texans select David Carr, quarterback, from Fresno State…”

And then it continued…

The Panthers pick Julius Peppers from North Carolina.

The Lions draft Joey Harrington from Oregon.

And the Bills take Mike Williams, an offensive tackle from Texas…

Soon followed the selections of Quentin Jammer, Dwight Freeney, Jeremy Shockey and more.

As we continue to encourage the maintaining of perspective — recognizing how valuable and vital that is, especially at this time — and acknowledging first for our non-sports enthusiasts, that this post is not about football nor the building of any team’s desired roster — allow me a brief epilogue to Sunday’s conversation. Sunday was a post pointing out the challenge of each of our plights, the steady prudence of being sensitive to one another knowing such in no way minimizes our individual struggles, but acknowledging how wise one is to be aware of the bigger situation — of the entirety of all that’s going on.

I referenced spending most of the month of March of 2002 in the cardiac ICU wing. Josh had a hole in his heart that prior to repair, found in him a perilous situation, as he struggled with a nasty, respiratory virus. Also keenly comparable to the current societal situation, once able to breathe on his own again, we were officially quarantined until the surgical repair was complete several weeks later. For both the respiratory virus and the repair, we were in ICU.

For those who’ve been fortunate enough to avoid the intensive care unit, allow me to concisely describe it as a solemn, solitary place. It’s the area reserved for the patients in need of the most critical care. Their illness or injury is perceived to be life-threatening or severe, thus requiring close and constant care and supervision.

Few — if any — are allowed to visit. If so, visitors may only congregate in designated areas, far removed from patient care.

Suffice it to say, it can be a most lonely time.

I remember sitting long days alone in that room… my infant son gravely struggling… my spouse wrestling with a cold that distressingly negated his visitation… no others allowed in… talking to God far more than anyone… if I’m honest, even struggling with that.

And somewhere in that process, maybe when I was finally doing more listening than talking, I felt prompted to be a little more intentional in my gratitude…

In this crazy, isolated, unwanted time, what can I still give thanks for?

For me, I quietly then noticed what weekend it was. It was time for the National Football League’s annual amateur draft. Now allow me to be clear… while an avid sports fan, I had never watched the NFL draft. Sure, I paid attention to the more noteworthy selections, but sitting down and actually watching this marathon television event had never been something I desired nor was even all that interested in.

Except in 2002, in an event that goes on (and on and on), here now was something constant to keep me interested and encouraged… something emitting a little extra hope in the room…

… with pick 259, the Detroit Lions select Victor Rogers, a tackle from the University of Colorado…

… pick 260 sends Dominique Stevenson to the Buffalo Bills…

… and with the final selection of the 2002 NFL Draft, UNLV’s Ahmad Miller heads to the Houston Texans!

Yes, I watched all 7 rounds… all 261 picks… 

Tomorrow evening begins the 2020 NFL Draft. 18 years later. I can’t wait. Is it because I have now developed this zealous, fanatic interest in professional football??

Maybe.

But more so it does two things…

It makes me think of the perspective gleaned all those years ago… and it again reminds me of the profound effect giving gratitude can have on one’s disposition — even in crazy, isolated, and unwanted times.

Respectfully…

AR