This Easter weekend, I went for a quiet walk through my in-laws’ neighborhood. About halfway in, I heard what sounded like a man screaming. I stopped. For a moment, I was concerned.
But then I listened closer.
He wasn’t angry—he was yelling with joy. Playfully. Laughing. I soon realized he was in the middle of a baseball game with the neighborhood kids.
As I walked closer, I spotted the game unfolding in a front yard. A group of kids were throwing pitches, calling strikes, and chasing down fly balls. And right in the middle of it all was a grey-bearded Black man, leading the charge. He wasn’t just playing—he was in it. Smiling. Shouting. Laughing louder than anyone else. You could tell he was having the time of his life.
I kept walking, but I couldn’t stop smiling. Their voices echoed through the neighborhood—shouts of “You’re out!” and “Strike one!” carrying like a hymn of joy.
That moment stuck with me.
It reminded me how vital it is for adults—especially fathers and father figures—to show up. To play. To laugh. To be there. Not just in the background, but in the game.
Kids don’t just remember what we say. They remember what we do.
And sometimes, the loudest gospel isn’t preached in a church on Easter morning—it’s heard in a front yard, through the crack of a bat and the sound of shared laughter.
