And the number is ...

Emma Burst, left, and Gavin Rubio
 display the power of the number

Taking a minute from all the United Methodist denominational disaster talk, let's talk families.

My wife, Mary, and I are moving from this house we've rented just 10 miles or so from our girls and their kids in about five weeks, give or take.

So, we're piling up the mileage going back and forth from our house to the ball fields on the West Bank of the Mississippi River, watching three kids play ball. I even coached third base for a few moments last night, the first time in, oh, 15 years or so this old man got on the field.

Let's take a trip back to elementary school at Northeast Lauderdale in Ponta, Miss. to see how a family tradition was born.

Someone came around one day asking if we, the kids, wanted to buy a high school football jersey replica of Northeast Lauderdale High School's Trojans. Oh, man. I wanted so badly to have this jersey, in white with red stripes across the shoulders and Trojans printed in gray lettering across the front. I got my mother to buy it, we ordered, and it came in. I had forgotten to put a jersey number preference on the order form, and in it came with a number of their choosing. No. 8. Well, who was No. 8 on our team? Nobody. I immediately wanted to exchange it, but there were no give backs. So, No. 8 I was. I wore that shirt for at least three years or till I outgrew it.

When I got old enough for junior high football, I was No. 8 the first year till they figured out I was way too slow for any skill position. I became No. 60 and stayed No. 60 till I was done playing.

But in baseball, I was always No. 8. Always. Right on through high school baseball. No. 8.

Then, lo and behold, Archie Manning -- my favorite college and pro player of all time to this day -- was assigned No. 8 by the New Orleans Saints. No. 8 it is, was, will always be.

When my oldest daughter began softball, we picked No. 8 for her. When my youngest daughter began softball, No. 8 it was.

Somehow along the way, it became a family tradition. Right on through the grand kids. They've always been No. 8 till this year No. 8 was on a jersey that swallowed our oldest grand child whole. he is No. 3 this year, because it almost fits. Still, if you squint really hard, No. 3 looks like a No. 8 that wasn't finished yet.

Now, is there any power in the number? Nah. Is there magic in the number? Nah. But it is some sort of connection that melds us together, that takes the years and makes them seem like they've never been torn off the calendar though I certainly feel like they have been.

Every family has unique and treasured family traditions and stories. The oldest members of extended families are often the keepers of these riches and pass them from generation to generation. The greater the connection with the generations that came before, the more traditions and stories there are to share with the next generation.

Family traditions vary from culture to culture and family to family. They might include, oh, recipes, holiday celebrations, a keep sake ornament for example, or songs, books or games. These traditions are the legacy one generation can leave for the next.

Often this comes out in story form. In our case, they come out in a number.

In the Bible, the No. 8 represents a new beginning, meaning a new order or creation, and man's true born again event when he is resurrected from the dead into eternal life.

But with each generation of our family that comes, perhaps it will mean a new beginning to the tradition of youth sports, of teamwork, of concentration that turns into accomplishment, of a link to an old man's youth.

Or it could mean they forgot to ask for a number.