Working full time and being in the missions school causes me to gladly surrender my heart more and more each day, but it does leave me feeling a bit tired these days... ;)
Every day and night is non-stop and by the time the weekend hits I don't know what to do with myself! It's amazing how much you get adapted to busy life that when you actually do have some down time you have no idea what to do! I can't tell you these past two weekends how many times I frantically walked around my apartment wondering what the heck I was going to do with myself. It was such an odd feeling... Reading a book was out because I read all week and needed a breather; going to the coffee shop is out because, well, I do that all the time and it's getting very old, and texting people is practically useless because by the time I text them they've all got plans and I'm left by myself on a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon ;) Oh well, I guess it means a nice walk in the park....
After church I took my Bible and a book and headed off to the park for a quiet afternoon of reading and revelation on a lovely day. (Haven't I learned that my days never go as I imagine?) I reached the park to find a sea of cars in the parking lot, some people tailgaiting and a few baseball and basketball games going on. It was 68 degrees and sunny so I shouldn't have expected any less...
After weaving through crowds of people and baseballs flying over my head (players practicing for the next inning) I made my way to the perfect bench-- sitting between a few tall trees, near a bunch of playful children hanging from the monkey bars at the playground, in front of 1st base, with juuust the right amount of rays hitting my body to warm me from the chilly breeze. What a beautiful day, a beautiful place and a beautiful moment.
Before I got to reading I watched the young baseball players. Parents were cheering loudly from the stands and as I looked over I couldn't help but chuckle as I watched the exuberated Mom (who I swore was my mom over 10 years ago reincarnated) in the oldschool, portable bleacher chair with her umbrella, snacks and pop surrounding her designated "area" on the top bleacher. No wonder she was cheering-- an in-the-park homer, a close and safe slide into 2nd, and an almost steal from first just happened in under five minutes-- who wouldn't be hollering for "ma boy" during such a game!? Yet when I watched the boy hit the inside-the-park-homerun and slide safe into home I felt tears running down my face. For the first time in over 10 years I re-visited my life as a trophy-winner softball player.
"Oh how I miss those days..." I thought. "learning to pitch, bat, field... gettin' my first black eye during an awesome slide, catching a town-talking fly, ruining my first set of cletes..." It was the first sport I ever played and after much practice excelled at. Fielding was my strongest area; batting my weakest, but I could actually say I was good at something (in those days). Certainly I had my on and off days as a fast-pitch pitcher, but the exhilaration of a game was so worth it. From the crisp smell of a freshly cleaned uniform to cheering my teamates on in the dugout with my hands gripping the fence, being a softball player was practically my identity.
My great aunt and uncle never missed a game. My mom hardly missed a game, but my dad wasn't able to make it to all of them because he was coaching the boys. But I remember poignantly the feeling I had knowing that I was in my element and was making my family proud. There was nothing like it! (Exactly like now knowing I am my Father's Daughter living out my purpose in Christ)
My accident happened in '97, we estimate, while I slid into home during my in-the-park homer. I was safe, but remember being in excrutiating pain upon getting up. Coach told me to play it off, and a year later I could barely walk without pain. After being forced to drop out of all sports, confined to a back brace 24/7 for three years, constant physical therapy, endless doses of meds, and a back fusion in '00, I wasn't about to risk dealing with the same level of intense, non-stop pain so I purposed to never play softball or other sports again. Six months after my fusion the doctors told me I could play, but I never went back on the field.
I would still watch the professional games like I always did and even go to games, but the idea of playing again was dead in my spirit. A few years ago I found myself running a track that held softball games around the same time of my daily run. I wanted to be apart of the game so badly. I even tried to start a team with my church, but it never worked out. When I was home with my family I would play catch with my nephew and teach him a few things. Playing softball has never left my heart.
Never have I dreamed my softball days were over as a young teen; I just buried my dream thinking I would be better off without playing, even though I felt such fulfillment while playing. Today as I reminisced I felt the Lord encouraging my heart to dream again and not loose hope about playing in the future. He knew I loved softball; He gave me the desire and gifts to play. For years I put it in a door and closed it not wanting to risk potential injury again-- I was fearful, and naturally so. Yet this afternoon I found myself desperately wanting to run on the field and play with the kids... replying to the Lord, "when will I even be able to play anytime soon with what you've laid on my heart to do this year and next?" He so graciously reminded me that my timing and His are off balance, but He hasn't forgotten my dream. The day will come where I'll have opportunity to play again with a great team and when I do, it will be glorious :) Thanks, Papa.
... (I did read my Bible at the park-- quite ironically the book of Jonah and as always I am fascinated by the love and mercy of our Father... have I, like Jonah, the right to ignore and turn away from what God has breathed life into? Ninevah for Jonah, Softball for me?)
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