Skateboarding

Ditch and I went skateboarding one night, jumping down stairs and popping ollies over curbs and such. Ditch is really good. I am okay sometimes. I think I do well for a 29 year old who has been skateboarding with any real dedication for less than a year. Whenever I'm having fun on my skateboard, I praise Jesus, because I consider it a gift from Him. I have felt like giving up more than once, until praying to the God who renews our strength (Isaiah 40:31), who even told me I would skateboard about a year and a half before I could afford a good board. Ditch and I found a really good spot at a big church, which was really productive until we noticed the "no skateboards" sign. I was hesitant to leave, but I didn't want to offend anyone, and I definitely didn't want to be a bad example to Ditch, who has yet to receive Jesus. He seemed to be waiting on my decision; it was entirely my call. I ollied down the steps on my way out.
More recently, Josh and I were at a little church where we'd just finished playing bass and guitar, respectively, for their multi-night revival. It was the final night and I'd been casing the parking lot for two nights; there was a low wall with a maybe two feet drop-off on the other side, and I wanted to ollie it. First we hit the kitchen and scored some strawberry cake. It was late and most everyone had left. Josh had already told me he used to be able to ollie down about 12 steps at a time when he was the age that normal people skateboard, so I knew whatever happened wouldn't be too impressive, but I was already committed. I'd landed something similar though smaller before in a parking lot where we'd randomly pulled the van over because smoke was coming out of the dash. This night I barely launched, much less landed. So it goes.