Tuesday, June 03, 2008
I have one son. Thomas. Thomas has two older sisters. He's number 7 in the picture and he's an upcoming high school junior. He's played baseball since he was four--shortstop, sometimes pitcher or catcher, even center field. He's quick. On the baseball field, he moves fluidly--smoothly. Now, for the very first time, he's going out for FOOTBALL. They want him to try out for quarterback.
I'm not thrilled about it. Football doesn't make sense to me. Why would anybody want to get knocked around on a dirty field? My husband and son don't pay attention to my smothering/mothering thoughts. They're all into this football thing. So, I divided my feelings into two piles.
1. My fears. He's my baby. My only boy. I don't want him to get hurt. I don't want other players knocking him down. Yes, he's doing weight lifting this summer, but some of those guys are HUGE. How do you become a QB when you've never played football? What if he......can't.....do.....it.
2. My small faith. I prayed a teeny-weeny prayer. And I sensed God's still small voice, thought I didn't really want to. I wanted my way--for Thomas to say, "Never mind, Mom. I changed my mind." God gently reminded me to let go (again--He tells me that all the time). He said that he loves Thomas even more than I do. He reminded me that He is Thomas's God. He put the thought in me (again) that His ways aren't my ways. Maybe, just maybe, there's a plan other than Julie's.
Deep down, you know, I really admire Thomas. I would have never attempted a sport or anything new like that in high school. I would have been afraid of failure.
With God's help I'm slowly changing. I'm asking God for guts these days too, just like Thomas.