Some days, I wish I could recreate a moment or go back for just a minute and relive it. There are so many fond memories I have from the wonderful experiences I have had around the world, and my only connection it seems is my memories and Facebook. I could recreate a spontaneous decision to go with my sister and a friend to the midnight release of Pirates of the Caribbean (I think it was At World’s End??). It was one of the few times I got out and did something just because. I could recreate almost all of Governor School–the horribly wonderful canoeing adventure, the creative writing class, the weekend in Minneapolis. I could recreate the first time I taught in Cambodia or the first time I visited an orphanage. I could recreate the first time I gave my testimony On The Red Box in Spain. I could recreate the serenity of running from the chaos after the wedding and reception to take bride and groom pictures in a remote place. There are all these moments that paint my life beautiful.
Today, I was reminded of a holiday that I will never forget. I was simply reminded by scrolling through Facebook and seeing the people again. It was the 4th of July. I was in a foreign country that had no celebration for our independence. It was here that I first came to appreciate and maybe even love baseball. There was a team of about 20 people who were mostly from America that were in this country to teach baseball. We were working with other Americans that were already planted there in this country, and some of the kids we were teaching were Americans. So, we all flocked together on this wonderful holiday, a holiday I would relive every year if I could.
One of the Dad’s brought a grill to the baseball field and we had hot dogs, the real German sausage ones. I actually tried one. We had watermelon, too, which somehow turned into a watermelon seed spitting contest. Having been there for a month, it was wonderful to visit with people we had come to know personally and love dearly. And then, we played baseball. We opened it with the national anthem and celebrated America together. Though none of the foreigners understood, we stopped at the seventh inning stretch to sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.” It was the best 4th of July in my small window of life. There was no family, except the family of Christ, and there was no fireworks. There was laughter, there was play, there was food, and there was an unforgettable memory that was made.
As I sit and reflect on the people, and the experiences, I find myself wishing I could recreate this memory over and over, especially if I could be with those friends again.