Catholic Exchange

Appalachian State versus the University of Michigan. A small college from the hills of North Carolina against my colossal alma mater in Ann Arbor, the school with the winningest record in NCAA football history and ranked fifth in the nation.

Most everyone knows what happened: Appalachian State pulled off the greatest upset in college football history. The Big House's 100,000 fans were silenced.

I know. I was there.

I wasn't even supposed to see the game, since my semi-rural area doesn't get the Big Ten Network. But at 9:00 a.m. that morning, a friend called, offering me four free seats on the forty-yard line.

I almost declined. I had just gone back to bed after getting up obnoxiously early that morning. I was in my pajamas. I would have to drive over two hours for a game that started in just three hours. My gas tank was empty.

Most of all, I had been looking forward to a no-obligation and relaxing Labor Day weekend.

But then I saw my third-grade son smiling excitedly. He had overheard the conversation. For his upcoming birthday, he wanted one thing: attend a U of M football game. I earlier told him tickets were almost impossible to get.

I accepted my friend's offer, rolled out of bed, got dressed and assembled the team: two sons and my nephew next door, all young football fanatics. We ambled into the mini-van, got gas, and speeded to Ann Arbor.

I'm generally about as spontaneous as Old Faithful. Even as a child and teenager, I always had my days mapped out, always arrived to events on time, always planned ahead.

But I've always kind of admired the less time-bound. Although I tend to agree with the popular t-shirt that says "Hippies smell," I appreciate their laid back ways. The Doobie Brothers' lyric "I ain't got no worries cause I ain't in no hurry" resonates with me.

On that opening Saturday of college football, it felt good to be spontaneous, even though I needed a gallon of Mountain Dew to keep going. The next morning, I started thinking of other times I acted spontaneously: a sudden day trip to Chicago with my girlfriend (now wife), a last-second trip to the great sand dunes of Lake Michigan with my children, a spontaneous pilgrimage to Notre Dame for Mass.

They've all gone well.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Christian thinkers from Evagrius to C.S. Lewis have emphasized the importance of living in the present. God, C.S. Lewis said in The Screwtape Letters, wants men to attend chiefly to two things: "eternity itself, and to . . . the Present. For the Present is the point at which time touches eternity."

The Psalmist writes that the Lord's word is a lamp to one's feet (119:105). It's not a spotlight that lights a person's entire horizon. We shouldn't lament the past or fret about the future, and we should be ready to accept whatever comes. When a person rolls with the sudden twists in his days, he's in a better position to accept whatever graces God sends.

That opening football Saturday was a grace. Yes, my alma mater suffered a stunning loss, but it was a great game, my children witnessed sports history and the day went smoothly. On the way home, we laughed (with an occasional rant thrown in) at the absurdity of losing to Appalachian State; we laughed at Michigan's number five ranking; we laughed about a brutal season ahead of us.

And where there's good laughter, there's grace. I'm still Old Faithful-like, but I'll always remember that fun day and remember the wisdom of spouting spontaneity.