My weekend was full.
It was full of things that matter to me. So I don't mind full.
We had ballgames, a cookout with friends, Worshiping with our church family, a piano recital and actively participating in community with our small group.
And now as I reflect on some of the highlights I think about Saturday morning.
I'm sipping my coffee, watching my son play baseball.
I had the best seat in the house. Inside my van with the windows rolled down.
My oldest son is up to bat...2 on base.
"Come on baby you can do it" I mutter under my coffee breath.
Flashback with me two years ago.
My firstborn son has always loved baseball. He calls it his sport. He felt confident as he would hit and run. He just loved it. But half way through the season a pitcher beamed him with a wild pitch. My son's instinct was to protect his front and so he turned half way and the pitch got him in the back. He fell, grimaced, tried to be cool, as he took his base. But there were silent tears and a bruise on his body.
His confidence at the plate changed. He would jump out of the box causing the umpire to call strike. The last 2 years have been painful to watch as he seemed to just pull away. All the while still really wanting to play but as he approached the plate he looked scared and timid. No amount of our encouraging seemed to help.
He was scared of the hard ball seemingly forever.
But this year as the season opened he and his dad were on their way to the ball park for his first practice. "Dad this year I've decided I'm not going to be scared at the plate."
And that was that.
He has gotten on base at every game. With a number of hits. It has been amazing to see the transformation.
And here he is up to bat. And I'm holding my breath.
He hit that ball out to right field.
The runner scores and he brings the 2nd runner to third as he rounds first looking to see if he should keep running. Tears are filling my eyes and falling down my cheeks as I watch. It's not the game winning point or anything but my son is overcoming the struggle that had paralyzed him with fear.
In that moment I felt God whispering to me...."That's how I feel about my kids. I am so glad to see them succeed. I am for my children and when one is struggling after a bruise or injury I want so much for them to realize they really are overcomers. I love them. I know they can do all I ask them to do."
And my heart melted.
I have my own paralyzing fears. Fears that I won't ever be able to hit the ball again. Beyond that lacking the desire to even get up to the plate.
And I realized that God was using this baseball game and my son's battle to speak to me.
And I love him for the way he loves his own.
Like a mother loves her son.
Our Father loves all his kids and even when we don't realize it he is right there cheering for us.
"Get back in the game"...Strikes to the back will come but it will make you stronger.
You will learn from it.
And One day you will hit the ball again.
One day my child.