Is God a Cavalier or a Cardinal?

The O'Doyle world and our marriage drastically changed in 2014...

Seriously, it was life changing and HUGE and a departure from which we could never return.  I'm only being semi-over dramatic. Let me take you back....

In the early fall of 1992, an over the top football loving girl met an over the top basketball crazed

man--their love was solidified as they fought over the sports section on Sunday mornings. They were married and the two became one--an over the top obsessed basketball/football and all other sports loving couple which soon expanded (read VERY soon) to become a family of six. They lived peacefully together--mostly (there were those few times Georgia played UVA and they had divided loyalties). But then....

In 2014, Louisville joined the ACC and the total calmness and peace which had always been a given (ha ha) in the Doyle home was threatened. Every year, at least three times, a new event impeded the tranquility of our home--#divorcebowl.

(As aside--I still cannot wrap my head around, the other 1/2 of our whole, does not root for UVA the school where his wife, daughter, father-in-law, sister-in-law, and brother-in-law attended. For the record he did NOT attend Louisville. I remind him frequently he paid four years of tuition to The University. He reminds me that's another reason to cheer against them...)

Back to the present...

This year, although for the first time the game was not during Diocesan Convention; I still couldn't go. I was helping to lead a retreat. But then last week happened....

In the course of six days, I was personally touched by 5 deaths. To say I was reeling is an understatement of the year. Grief is real and powerful and persistent and raw and horrible. I felt disconnected and alone as I knew my friends would be gathering together, and I couldn't go. It was a lonely and isolating feeling. In the midst of this, tickets to the game were offered to Chris and me. With permission from the Bishop, I came for the part of the retreat for which I was responsible and then left to attend #divorcebowl2019.

The weather wasn't great--cold and rainy on and off, but we were determined to have an afternoon of

fun just the two of us. I was decked out in orange and blue and he in red and black (although really look at his jacket--doesn't it semi resemble a shade of orange?)

By the time we knew we were going, it was too late to sign up for the UVA tailgate or find other people with whom to tailgate, so we went just the two of us. We were having fun. I didn't feel like I was going to cry every moment; the lump in my throat was at least small enough for me to breathe. We were together.

Midway through the first quarter I went to find a good friend in her section--a Cards fan I might add. I kept looking but she wasn't there. As I turned to go, Virginia scored. When Virginia scores, fans grab arms, sway and sing "The Good Ole' Song." (A song I've known for as long as I can remember...that and "From Rugby Rd to Vinegar Hill" ) All at once those tears that I hadn't been feeling threatened to begin the descent from the corners of my eyes down my cheeks. I was standing in the tunnel between 2 sections of Cardinal fans, alone. Suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a man wearing a Virginia baseball hat put his arm around my shoulders and began to sing. I looked up, joined arms, and we together we finished "The Good Ole' Song."

Following the song, we laughed. We were clearly two middle aged people in the midst of the Cards section singing (off key) at the top of our lungs. He asked if I was from here and what my connection to UVA was. I explained my husband was from here and we moved here 11 years ago. I probably told him all about #divorcebowl--I don't have much of a filter.

Then he told me he lived in St. Louis and his brother in Cincinnati but they both went to UVA undergrad and medical school so they met this weekend for the game. We discovered we overlapped during our time there. And then it went one step further....

He told me he was from Grundy, Virginia.

Grundy, Virginia an area of the Appalachian Mountains--an area not far from my Daddy's home town of Norton, Virginia. What were the odds?

That is not a huge area, and since we had already figured out we were there for some of the same time, I asked if he knew some of my sorority sisters who were also from the area--he didn't. Then he said, "My uncle also went to undergrad and med school at UVA." He told me the years and he told me his uncle's name. I called Daddy.

Surprisingly--I could get a signal. Even more shocking--Daddy, who was currently in Wise, Virginia at a UVA event, could get a signal and answered. I asked Daddy if he knew Charlie Hess--"Yes!" Daddy said, "I know him well." And suddenly I didn't feel so alone standing in that tunnel--a connection had been made. A connection I needed to feel.

I returned to my seat and Chris and I watched the rest of the game cheering for both the Cards and the Cavaliers. (We were really confusing those around us!)

So the question to be answered, "Is God more a Cavalier or a Cardinal fan?"

I don't know--but I do know with 5:16 left in the first quarter, Wayne Taulapapa rushed for a 6 yard touchdown, and God showed up in the tunnel between sections 205 and 206.

Trust Me Preacher Lady

I love Laundry Love--and it's not because I love doing laundry and holding babies--both of which I love to and get to do when I'm there. No, it's because of the people, the people who minister to me every time. And if I'm totally honest, one in particular--Darren.

I met Darren 3 years ago. Boss had just arrived home from Montana. He went with me and also met Darren. But he didn't stay. It was a hard time for him and he just didn't want to be around people very much or for very long. We had planned to go to dinner afterwards, instead Darren ran across the street to his apartment and brought me some of his homemade bbque. "I know you'd rather go eat with your son," Darren told me, "but this is pretty good too. And trust me Preacher Lady, your boy is going to be alright."


Spring 2017 I was back at Laundry Love. Darren shows up. I begin helping him fold his clothes. "How's your boy?" he asks. I think I might have teared up a little bit. "He's having a hard time right now," I responded. "Trust me Preacher Lady," Darren said as he nudged me, "Your boy is going to be alright." (Thanks to that comment I didn't ball up and destroy the SEVEN Florida Gator t-shirts I was helping him to fold.)

Darren and I have seen each other at least 1/2 dozen times since then. Every time we talk football smack and EVERY TIME he asks about "my boy." EVERY. SINGLE. TIME.

That may not seem like a big deal to some, but it was and is HUGE for me. Some of my closest "friends" stopped asking about Boss a long time ago--others stopped talking to me--others spend enormous amounts of time and energy trying to avoid me. But not Darren. Darren asks. Darren cares. Darren doesn’t judge. Darren just has faith. Darren just loves.

Last Thursday I was at Laundry Love and no Darren. I had a great time but was disappointed. Have no fear! Seven forty five (we end at 8) in walks Darren. We hugged each other as he said, "I don't have any laundry tonight, but I was looking out my window and saw you so had to run over here. How's your boy?" I know my smile could have lit up the laundromat if the power went out. "He's great!" I told him. "Living back here in Louisville and working. I get to see him and he calls or texts me every morning. He's awesome." Darren just smiled, gave me a wink and said, "See I told you to trust me. I knew he was going to be alright; I never doubted it from the day I met him. Just got to have a little faith." Then he gave me a big hug and said, "And here you're the Preacher Lady."

Darren walked me to my car as we closed up ("No one's going to mess with you if I'm around," he

told me.) He hugged me again, opened my door and I slid in with a heart exploding with love for this man and his faith.

Then, Darren knocked on the window. I rolled it down. "Go Gators!" he yelled.

Well mostly love....