It just wasn’t the same watching them on the small television in this trailer with the Christmas tree that still needed to be decorated.

Thomas knew why.

It wasn’t because of the size of the television or the fuzziness of the reception or the fact that Mom and Sara were not interested in the game.

It was because his father wasn’t there.

The season had just started and that was when Thomas realized that the person who sat beside him watching the games hadn’t been around for quite some time.

It was the same person who once played, the same person who always encouraged Thomas in his playing.

“You can dribble around him because you’re faster than he is,” Dad would tell him after watching him during a game. “You can drain that shot because you’re taller than him.”

It was a shared bond. It was only now that Thomas realized how much it meant to him. Not to his father, but to him.

Watching the game by himself was just that—it was always better to share the experience.

Thomas realized that his father didn’t just laugh and yell and curse and cheer along with the Tarheels. He encouraged and educated his son during the games too.

He wouldn’t believe it if I told him I wasn’t playing because of some school technicality. He’d be angry.

Sometimes he wondered if he’d ever see his dad again, and what he would say if he did.

Tonight, Thomas wished and hoped he could see his father again. He needed to see him again.

Maybe he was thinking about Dad because of the other evening driving home from Uncle Jesse’s and what Mom had said.

“Don’t hate your father. We’re all sinful and God is working in all of us. You, me, Sara, your father.”

Working in all of us.

Thomas wondered if God was really working in his father. Would they ever know? All he could do was pray for him.

I wonder if he’s in his chair half passed out from drinking, thinking about the game. Or maybe, just maybe, thinking about his son.

A Tiny Fraction of Hope

It was Sunday but so far Lynn hadn’t had much rest and she certainly hadn’t seen much of the Lord. It was late at night and the kids had gone to bed. She sat on her couch, too wired to watch television or read a book or do anything other than look through the Help Wanted ads again. As if they might have been magically updated in the newspaper like they were on the Internet.

This lasted only a few minutes until her tired eyes closed and her frustration boiled over.

This was as good a time as any to have a little conversation. One she’d been putting off for a while.

“Why are you doing this?”

She was angry at Him and she wanted an answer. She needed an answer.

But Lynn had a feeling an answer wasn’t going to come.