In a few weeks the start of baseball season begins and I will commence my 44th season of being a fan. Since following the National Pastime at age eight, I long ago reached that journeyman status and can classify myself as what I consider "a real fan."
Over the past few weeks I've felt especially overwhelmed by my amount of "busy-ness." I deal with bouts of this at different times throughout the year. Work commitments requiring longer hours and late nights as well as home commitments with important business to tend to, evening appointments, and events have left me feeling a little burnt out. There are no signs of this relenting any time soon.
Mark Twain once wrote, "When I was a boy of 14, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have the old man around. But when I got to be 21, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years."
Light streaming from an open church door across the snow, a priest in full vestments standing at the door to shake hands with his parishioners as they muffled their faces against the winter cold and headed for their cars, their breath steaming in the frigid air and snow crunching underfoot.