Saturday, I attended my first soccer game as a daddy. We were there to watch Anna…the second coming of Pele. I called her Pela…

Until the game started.

When the game officially opened, she sat down on the field with her back to the action and put her head down. We still have no idea what happened.

As the game went on, there were other moments that made me chuckle as a dad. She would go the wrong way again. She got hurt, but reentered the game after a Lombardi-like speech from yours truly.

When it was all said and done, we had a great time watching her play. She was bigger and faster than most of the kids out there. When she wanted to play, she could. When she didn’t, she couldn’t.

It’s probably how God feels watching us live. He laughs. He hurts for us. He sees the things we could accomplish, and things we don’t because we want to go our own way. The good thing is that God doesn’t love us for how we perform on the field. He loves us because we’re his kids.

And that’s good.

Really good.

Maybe when I get to heaven he’ll give me some ice cream, too.