Share your Gatorade

Sometimes things can happen to make a pretty great moment not so great anymore.

Like when you spill your Gatorade.

I was at a picnic yesterday, and two young friends sat down on a sidewalk next to one another to enjoy their burgers and the beautiful sunshine together. They both had cups of Gatorade, and in one swift movement one of the girls accidentally knocked her cup over, and I watched as the Gatorade went floating down the sidewalk, and a look of disappointment came over her sweet face.

Before I could even say or do anything, I witnessed something I honestly wasn't expecting: without a single word, her friend poured half of her cup of Gatorade into the empty cup. Then it was as if the spilling incident had never even happened, as both girls continued with their burgers and conversation.

I was stunned.

When I was a very young girl, I started playing soccer solely because my brother played and because I wanted the Gatorade at halftime of the games. I really love Gatorade. Would I be willing to give up half of my Gatorade without any hesitation whatsoever to a friend in need?

Little moments

We frequently encounter situations in life when we face similar circumstances—involving things other than Gatorade, obviously—and we have to decide if we are going to help people out or not. But, many of these situations mean we will have to sacrifice our own time or possessions, and suddenly that Gatorade seems more necessary to quench our thirsts alone and not be shared with anyone.

One thing I learned on the soccer field, though, is that Gatorade tastes a lot better when you're drinking it with others.

If there's one piece of wisdom I've gained in my 29 years, it's that little moments are huge—because even the smallest things can be filled with tremendous amounts of love. One friend giving half of her Gatorade to another friend had nothing to do with the contents of that cup. She didn't care. Instead, she cared about a friend she loves dearly who needed her in that moment, and she didn't even think twice about herself and how much she had to drink. It was so simple yet so selfless and so beautiful.

Bob Goff, an author who truly changed the way I look at life with his book Love Does, said, "The way we love each other is the best evidence that Jesus is still alive." And those opportunities aren't always going to come at us in drastic or obvious ways—like helping someone with a flat tire on the side of the road—but rather in seemingly small forms that we often overlook.

Like sharing your Gatorade.

I know it's hard to give your time to others, because time is so valuable. But that's the thing—time is so valuable. It's limited. We're not going to be here forever, and we aren't going to have forever to show love to people here on earth. But we can make the most of the moments we are given to share more of ourselves and the things we have with those in need.

And then those not-so-great moments seem to disappear, because genuine love overshadows them all.

"You can sit here if you want"

I can sort of relate to Forrest Gump.

And it isn't because of the whole running thing.

I go to church every week by myself, and I sit alone in the same seat every week. I actually don't mind that much, as it's a great seat, and I have gotten to know some of the people who sit in the same area. Plus, I'm an independent woman (cue Destiny's Child), so I'm perfectly comfortable rockin' it solo.

But there's something about the Christmas Eve and Easter services that are harder. Maybe it's because a lot more people feel the need to attend church on those days, so there are many more complete families present. And then it just becomes a stronger reminder that I don't need to put a jacket or purse on the seats next to me to save them, because no one will be joining me.

I attended the evening Easter service yesterday—and I normally attend in the morning—so I knew I probably wouldn't see many of the familiar faces where I normally sit. I set my purse down on my chair and went to say hello to my friend Jen. She is on staff at my church, and I always try to find her as soon as I get there every Sunday, because, whether you are happy, sad, ecstatic, mad, or any other emotion, she will make you smile. She is just one of those people. When she found out I was there alone as usual, she said so simply, "Come sit with us." Before I could even respond, she was making her three boys scoot over and make room for me.

Ironically, Jen took this pic

It's kind of funny that her name is very similar to the little girl on the bus who told Forrest, "You can sit here if you want."

What touched my heart even more is that her family members didn't just let me sit by them by tacking me on the end of the row—they put me right in the middle. I felt so welcomed by people who, other than Jen, don't even know me. And, even when Jen had to get up and leave for a brief period to go make the announcements to the congregation, I felt perfectly comfortable sitting there with her family.

When people are so kind and genuine, maybe we all start to feel like we're peas and carrots.

I think God has a way of putting people in your way when you really need it. I was originally intent on sitting in my regular seat—as I do not like change much—but He knew I needed to sit elsewhere yesterday. He knew I needed to be reminded that I'm never completely alone in this world. He knew I needed my own Jenny (minus the ny) friend to say, "You can sit here if you want."

In the same regard, you never know when God is going to use you to touch the heart of someone else. By simply offering a smile or a few kind words to a person, you could be being a Jenny to that individual without realizing it. It's so small, yet so huge.

I don't care what other people say: I believe in fairytales, I believe in forever love, I believe in lifelong friendships, I believe in stuffed animals being meaningful things you have to hug while you sleep, I believe in ninth-inning comebacks, I believe in dreams coming true, and I believe in hope.

So I believe that, if you find yourself walking down the aisle on the school bus where no one seems to want to share a seat with you, there will be that one small voice that offers a place for you.

And I believe that, when it's a holiday when you find yourself alone and surrounded by families, there will be someone who reminds you that you're the daughter of a King and part of an even bigger family.

I believe in walking in boldness, for you're never really alone.

Timeless friendship

There are some friendships that you know will last forever with those people who know all of your flaws and still love you just the same.

And they are friendships that never change, regardless of the time or distance that has kept you apart.

I've known my friend Maddie since we were 3 years old, and we've shared a countless amount of memories together. We've watched our brothers play soccer together; we've played on our own soccer teams together; we've chased my mom around the softball field with full water bottles after she coached us to the championship; we ate lunch together every single day in fifth grade—and she had a baked potato every single day; we've climbed trees together; we've shared "car talk" in my mom's big red Suburban every day of freshman year of high school; more than once she's let me take over her camera for the night, knowing she's end up with way more snapshots than she expected; we've been in a multiple-car wreck together; we were baptized together; we've gone prom dress shopping together—the poor girl had to put up with me, knowing I hated shopping and the idea of prom; we've caused trouble (not really) together on the Texas A&M campus; we've texted "I can see you" pictures to each other from across the arena at convocation (we teach in the same school district); we've regularly sent each other cloud pictures, because we know how much we both appreciate those water droplets and solid ice crystals floating in the sky; and, simply put, we've grown up together.

It makes sense

So much about us has changed, yet our friendship hasn't.

When you're an adult, life can get pretty chaotic, and you don't always get to do the things you want—like hang out with all of your friends on a regular basis. But, one thing I've always believed about genuine friendships is that they are able to pick up where they left off like nothing has changed at all.

My friendship with Maddie is just like that. We don't always get to see each other as much as we'd like, but we make it a point to get together when we can. After all, you make time for the things you want in life. Whenever we hang out, it's as if we were teenagers again in the back of my mom's red Suburban, talking about whatever was on our minds. Granted, now our conversations are about things that are probably more significant, but we still have that same childish innocence in our friendship that we had when we were in elementary school seeing how far we could go on the monkey bars. Some friends, like Maddie, may change a little in appearance or maturity but never change the special places they hold in your heart.

And they always know how to make you smile when you need it most.

I had a pretty stressful week last week and an even worse start to my weekend. But I forgot all about it late yesterday afternoon when Maddie drove out of her way to pick me up and go for a walk with me in the post-rain beautiful weather.

The comfort of her friendship was just the reminder I needed of things that truly matter in this world.

As walked and chatted and forgot about so many stresses in life that ultimately don't hold much weight in our lives, I found myself being so thankful for a friend who quoted random movies with me throughout the afternoon, called me strange when I started acting like I had a dorsal fin when we were crossing the street, then said, "And you're perfectly OK with it."

And, even better, so is she.

I know Maddie will be my friend no matter what. She knows that I am kind of strange and a bit quirky at times, but she doesn't care. Because she cares about me.

These special friendships I truly believe are gifts from God, because they are just like him. They are always there and don't change. They are lasting and loving. They are truly unshakeable.

He always makes time for me, and I know I need to do the same. After all, you make time for the things you want in life.

And His is a friendship that is beyond unshakeable.

Sports bring hope

I once turned down one of the only dates I have ever been asked out on, because there was a really important college football game I couldn't miss.

And I don't regret that decision.

I don't remember exactly when my love for sports began, but it was probably around the time I started following my older brother around everywhere and trying to be just like him. It was just a natural thing growing up in the Merrill household to play sports, so I followed suit.

But it wasn't just playing sports that intrigued me so much—I fell in love with watching them.

I remember my mom telling me more than once that, when she was growing up, having sports on the television always made her feel safe. So, whenever I was home alone as a kid, I always turned on sports so that I could have the security my mom had spoken about so often. And, while I understood what she meant, I also found something so much stronger in the various games before my eyes: hope.

And I think it's that same hope that keeps my passion for sports alive every day.

Hope talk before a big race

There's something so exciting about not knowing what's going to happen—with each play, with each pass, with each shot attempt, with each pitch, with each swing, with each putt. And, through it all, you're able to have these brief moments of immense hope that something miraculous is going to happen. There's anxiety and an unexplainable faith wrapped together at once, and you sometimes even have to hold your breath for a second or two until your hopes are either fulfilled with an epic memory that might never escape you or until they are dashed and leave you with a hurting heart that you also won't forget anytime soon.

And it's comparable to so many aspects of life.

Sports require athletes to be bold—if you hold anything back, you're risking missing out on the opportunities that could bring greatness. If Eli Manning hadn't escaped more than one tackle and launched the ball into the air, letting hope out the wazoo fly with it that David Tyree would catch it back in 2008, his team likely wouldn't have beaten the Patriots in the Super Bowl that day. You could almost feel the air being sucked out of the room as people held their breaths in anticipation of what would happen next.

And the result was unforgettable.

But if you don't have enough hope to take those chances, then those amazing moments don't exist. One place we're able to see these happen consistently is during the NCAA Tournament. On Saturday night, when Kentucky and Wisconsin squared off in the Final Four, hope came in the form of a shot beyond the arc that you almost knew was going to fall as soon as it left Aaron Harrison's hands. With 5.7 seconds left on the clock, he launched a 3-pointer to put the Wildcats ahead by a point and ultimately gave them the one-point win. Icing on the cake? The assist for the shot came from his twin brother. Oh, and it was also Harrison's third game-winner of the tourney.

It couldn't have been more of a storybook moment.

Now, obviously when there's a moment of hope fulfilled for one team, there's also the memory of hopes shattered for the other. Just look at images of the faces of the Wisconsin players and fans for proof. But, just as keeping hope alive is a great lesson for life, so is learning to deal with disappointment and loss. Those are the memories that often drive individuals to come back even stronger the next year with passion that pushes them to overcome the past. The Dallas Mavericks blew a 2-0 series lead over the Miami Heat in the NBA Finals in 2006 and ended up losing 4-2—an atrocity I will certainly never forget. You know what else I won't forget? Running through a parking lot and yelling in celebration in 2011 when the Mavs finally won the championship for which we'd been hoping for so long. And, even better, it was against the Heat. With LeBron.

I'm still waiting for the Rangers to overcome the 2011 World Series when we were one pitch away from winning. Twice.

Life doesn't always go the way we want it to. There will be times when the shot rips through the net at just the right moment, and there will be others when we swing and strike out with a full count and bases loaded in the bottom of the ninth. But, regardless of which outcome we face, we have to keep the hope alive that the next time we will hit that ball so far out of the park that people are still searching for it days later.

Because it's hope that keeps us going.

It's Christian Laettner hitting that last-second shot to give Duke the win over Kentucky in the 1992 tourney; it's Doug Flutie firing off a Hail Mary pass that gave BC victory over Miami in 1984; it's the Boston Red Sox coming back from a 3-0 deficit to beat the Yankees 4-3 in the 2004 AL Championship Series;  it's the Aggies scoring 35 points in the second half of the 2013 Chick-fil-A Bowl to defeat Duke; it's every time an unbelievable pass is released from a quarterback's hands; it's every game when your team is down, but you remain in your seat with the belief that there's still a chance; it's every coach who uses all timeouts possible with one more strategy that might keep his team alive; it's every player giving every single ounce of energy left until the time on the clock runs out.

It's the beauty of hope.