Game Day

         Confession: I don't really love football.  I barely know anything about the game.  But, I LOVE the Gators-  

I was born in Gainesville.  

My Dad's a Gator.  

My uncle's a Gator.  

My brother's a Gator.

My grandfather has season game tickets.  

The Swap is the only place I've ever seen live football.  

      But this year, every time the Gators take the field, I think of Uncle Dougie.  Uncle Dougie didn't go to UF, but I don't think a more dedicated fan ever shouted "CHOMP 'EM!"  Every year or so, Uncle Dougie wore a different Gator hat, retiring last year's hat to a nail on the Lil' Swamp's wall.  Uncle Dougie’s Lil' Swamp (also called the Gator Shed) held more Gator paraphernalia than any place in Gainesville excepting Ben Hill Griffin Stadium itself!  The hand-built shed was filled with newspaper clippings, stadium seats, autographed pictures and footballs, jerseys, T-shirts, handmade signs, stuffed animals, orange and blue painted everything, soda cans, game cups, and rafters full of baseball caps.

      And he was Mr. Positive.  In the middle of the Gator’s worst game ever of their worst season ever, Uncle Dougie still found something positive to say about the players, the coach, or -if all else failed- next season.

      Uncle Doug's life and "positive" weren't always compatible.  Life was rough.  But you never would have guessed if you met him.  To me, he was my Easter egg hunting buddy, wrestling buddy, the person super enthusiastic about any new "talent" I developed, and the person who called me beautiful even when I knew I wasn't.

      He smiled a lot.  Smoked even more (though he tried to hide it from us "kids" for years by saying he was just going out on the porch).  He loved history and old bottles, and his little town, Lacrosse.  He even thought of running for mayor.  He was a good neighbor.  He wasn't perfect, but for a man with that much pain in his life, it's amazing how much he loved people.

      I’ll never forget standing in his front yard with him and my family when his neighbor drove by and paused for a chat.  

      “These your people?”  The neighbor asked Doug, nodding his head toward us from his red pick-up.

      “They sure are!” Uncle Doug beamed.

      “Well, if you’re Doug’s people, you’re good people.”

      I thought of Proverbs, “a good name is to be more desired than great wealth.”

    

      Uncle Doug died of liver cancer 5 months ago.  During his short battle, he gave his life to Jesus.  My dad told me (right after I got a speeding ticket) as I drove up to Shands Hospital in Gainesville.  I wanted to believe it, but doubt overwhelmed me.  Many people say things they don’t mean when they’re on their death bed.  Maybe he was just scared, or maybe he just pretended to give his heart to Jesus because he knew that’s what we wanted.  Lord, please, help me to really know.

        The first words I heard Uncle Doug say when I reached his room and gave his weak body a hug were, “Hey Beautiful.  Thank you, Jesus, for bringing my beautiful niece to see me.”

       I knew.

      

       Now Jesus is reaping part of the reward He paid for on the cross.  Uncle Doug is fully restored to Him. 

       And some of Uncle Doug’s ashes remain on Ben Hill Griffin Field.

    

Go Gators.