If the Letter Jacket Fits…

Last week our little town celebrated homecoming.  The merchants’ store windows gleamed with spirited green and white slogans, and the cheerleading squad conducted pep rallies at all the neighborhood schools. On Friday, the kids participated in spirit day by dressing head to toe in the school colors.
As our school-agers were getting ready for the football game that evening, Rob disappeared into the basement. Moments later, he emerged dressed in his old letter jacket and carrying an ancient assortment of green and white practice jerseys.

“I’m ready for the game tonight!” he announced as he puffed his muscles and sauntered suavely in front of the kids.

“Dad! What are you wearing?” Lizzy asked as she made no attempt to conceal her giggles.

“It’s my letter jacket,” Rob replied. “I thought I’d show a little school spirit myself tonight.”

“Dad,” Luke asked, horrified, “You’re not really going to wear that to the game, are you?”

“Sure I am,” Rob coolly responded. “That’s what homecoming’s all about.”

“And I think I’ll wear this jersey,” I added as I slipped on Rob’s old football jersey that had once defined my Friday night wardrobe.

 “Mom, you’re not even going to the game,” Lizzy reminded me.

“Ahh.. but this jersey brings back so many memories. I wanted everyone to know that number 80 was mine.” I threw my arm around Rob and gave him a dramatic smooch.

The kids watched nervously, trying to decide if we were serious or not.

“Dad,” Lizzy tried again. “That jacket doesn’t even fit you anymore.”

“Besides, Dad,” Luke argued, “Nobody wears those kinds of coats these days.”

“Aw, come on,” Rob teased. “Style hasn’t changed that much in nineteen years.”

Lizzy rolled her eyes. Hannah jumped around Rob with glee and Luke held his breath. “I’m not going to the football game after all if Dad’s really wearing that thing,” my coolness-conscious firstborn muttered.

Rob’s green eyes caught mine and danced.

“I think you look great,” I told my high school sweetheart. “Just add a mop of strawberry blonde hair to your head and you look like the guy I fell in love with twenty years ago.”

We continued to savor the fun by trying on our matching basketball warm up jerseys from days gone by. As the little ones applauded our new look, we wondered aloud if any of our old classmates might show up at the homecoming game in vintage spirit gear.

“I bet nobody else even kept their letter jacket,” Luke persuaded.

Rob’s green eyes caught mine and danced. He headed toward the door with his green and white gear in hand. Then I heard the creak of the coat closet. The kids had won their war against embarrassment. Their homecoming chauffeur pulled out of the driveway dressed in an inconspicuous tan windbreaker.

As I folded up the pieces of green and white nostalgia, I thought about the boy who had won my heart in the hallways of our local high school. I saw him standing at my doorstep in that award-studded green and white jacket, promising my mom he’d have me home on time.  I spotted him leaning against his locker as he waited for me between classes.  I saw his patient smile, his sparkling green eyes, his outstretched hand that seamlessly swallowed mine. And I remembered why I’d loved him so easily.

But then I thought about the man who still holds my heart after seventeen years of marriage, and I agreed with Lizzy. Homecoming or not, that letter jacket just doesn’t fit Rob anymore.  Oh, the zipper still zips. The arms still keep out the cold. But the one who once wore that jacket with pride no longer exists. He has been replaced by a man who looks more like His Savior than his peers on the football team, by an amazing father who thinks more of his family than of himself, and by a tender hearted husband who dreams bigger dreams for his wife than she dares to dream on her own.

School spirit may transform an empty football stadium into a cheering homecoming crowd, but only the Holy Spirit can transform a growing boy into a godly man.