Students file through the gates, dripping red and black.
Metal bleachers groan under the weight of sweaty bodies, packed like sardines and buzzing with anticipation.
Spontaneous chants break out in a frenzy; morale is high and loud.
And the question, like an unspoken plea, rolling around everyone's mind:
Is this the year we win?
Surely, this is the year.
Our boys have worked so hard.
The coaching staff is fresh and ready with a new plan.
We threw such a good pep rally, painted beautiful signs, wore so much paraphernalia; certainly our support is enough to make it happen.
But as the valiant team fights hard against boys that are bigger, faster, and better prepared, the answer to everyone's question becomes obvious: Not this year.
The minutes tick by and the scoreboard reluctantly reveals what no one wants to accept: we're just not good enough.
And then the chant begins. Slowly, cautiously at first, but growing louder as the loyal fans recover from their disappointment. Because we're not here for the win, but here for the team. Our team.
"We still love you."
In those moments, I am reminded where I've heard this kind of unconditional love before.
When I'm up until 2 in the morning doing AP homework because I didn't manage my time well.
I still love you.
When I hurt my mom because I had a terrible day and I'm feeling worthless.
I still love you.
When I am selfish, reckless, or uncaring.
I still love you.
So thank you, Ravenwood High School for modeling unconditional love to your team and your community. And thank you, Jesus. For loving me no matter who I am or what I do. I'm grateful for You and hope to be more like You.
And remember: we still love you, boys.
