Such a Sap...

Phats...if you're reading...this is for you. :)

I told you earlier that I l-o-v-e the Olympics. I'm so glad these past few days haven't been busy, because I've loved the chance to have the games on every evening while I do my chores.

I'm a complete sap for the stories of the games. This is not new. This began the year Dan Jansen won his gold medal. I remember it well. Phats likes to pick on me for that, but I wanted to explain why (hopefully briefly).

Dan won his gold medal in 1994. It's likely you know that story and why it was so beautiful after the race of years before. I hadn't heard of Dan before 1994. I'm not even sure I'd watched any of the winter Olympics before 1994. But the night he won gold, I watched it from this very living room where I sit now as I write this. Back then, my grandmother lived here. I stayed with her often on the weekends.

It was a win-win situation for us. It gave her some company (my grandpa died a few years before), and it got me out of the house.

Why would I want to be out of the house?

My Dad was battling clinical depression. I'm not telling you something he wouldn't...so don't worry. For a teenager to watch, it was awful. My Dad went from busy busy busy every minute of every day to sitting in a chair (if he got out of bed at all) every minute of every day. He just sat and stared. No reading. No singing. No going to church. No meal other than hamburgers. I prayed against school cancellations and offered to babysit anyone in a tri-state area for free...if it meant I could leave the house. No one understood how I felt...because I didn't know any other 16 year olds who had parents battling clinical depression.

** Clarification ** I realize now...lo these many hours after posting...that not further explaining the origin of my dad's depression could lead to some interesting and perhaps VERY WRONG conclusions. Given that I don't want to discredit his good name, here's the story on that. He had been injured and was taking some medication for the injury. The particular combination of medication did not like him, apparently, and therefore the depression emerged. Okay....back to story **

So that night, when I sat in Grandma's living room and watched the replay of Dan's story of deep hurt and disappointment...and then I watched him skate to gold, I cried. (There's a shocker.) I cried because I'm a sap for great stories....but I cried for more than that. I cried because on the TV screen was a guy who gave me hope. Hope that after the worst...could come the best. At that point, for my life, I saw literally no hope. And even though my story's details didn't compare in any way with Dan's, the underlying themes of tragedy, unfairness, and disappointment resonated with me.

I even wrote to Dan and thanked him for the hope his story gave me. Got a postcard back. :) (That was for you, too, Phats.)

My circumstances today, praise the Lord, are not as dire. But I'm still a sap. A sap for the good stories. And there have been some good ones this time!