Tag Archives: cheering

A ticket to the dance

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Today’s start was leisurely and peaceful – two words I would not use to describe most of my mornings.  Our children were out of the house early to volunteer, giving my sweetie and I time to read the paper while the quiche with kale and red peppers was baking.  What a delicious way to start the morning!  We talked about the headlines: the loss of another business in our small town and the recognition of a friend’s dad for forty years of service at the university.  We lamented the former and celebrated the latter.  Eventually, our talk turned to basketball.  Not very surprising in our house as it is March Madness after all.  My husband is a reluctant fan.  He isn’t glued to the results but always wants to see a good match-up.   I, however, watch the games with an eye discerning athleticism and a heart looking for a good story.

Last Thursday was no exception.

It was a busy afternoon for my taxi service, completing carpool duties and driving my own children to appointments.  The entire ride all ears were riveted to the radio for a girls’ basketball semifinal play-off game.  They weren’t from our school, but we wished and cheered, hoping they could pull ahead from a double digit deficit. As the game clock was slowly ticking away, my littlest and I continued on with errands.  The final minutes of the game unfolded. We sat in our van in the beautiful sun . . . outside of the mall.  While she loves playing basketball, her interest started to wane, as she plucked her latest book from her backpack.

At one point, she looked up from her pages and tenderly said, “Momma, are you crying?”.

I assured her worried heart that I was crying happy tears.  When you are nine years old, happy tears are more than just a bit confusing.  An oxymoron in its truest form.

So overjoyed with emotion, my response was one that only muddied the waters more.

For this child I prayed.

The scrunched up nose and tangled eyebrows told me everything. She still didn’t understand.

Remember when we had the cancer game at sister’s basketball. 

Quietly, a yes came forth.

Do you remember whom sister chose to play for?

basketball shoes

Another quiet acknowledgment.

Not that long ago, she was very sick and she was fighting to get better.  When she was so sick, mommy prayed.

I didn’t tell her how for years after the bus crash, I suffered from night terrors.  In those dark moments where silence clung in every crevice of the room, my nights were filled with every worst case scenario my terror-filled imagination could create.  The horror of the immediate and the fear of what more could happen to our family, to my children, were my only thoughts.  I was weary and tired.  Anguish replaced peace-filled slumber.  To drown out the silence, I created noise in my night time routine, until sleep would finally overtake my thoughts.  When we heard about this sweet girl’s diagnosis, my heart hurt for her family because I understood what it felt like to have a child hurt and suffering.  We pray we hear of those hurting universally, but in this case, the hurt came knocking at our door . . . because she was one of “our own”.   As a friend of my children, I am a tiny part of her village.

Rather than allowing my fears to consume me, I changed my night-time routine.  Instead of filling my head with noise, I chose to flood heaven’s gates with prayers.  Whenever I could not sleep, I prayed for her.  While she lay (hopefully) sleeping and fighting the cancer in her body, I prayed for just that – rest for her body, healing for her cells, and peace for her family.  My own nights began to get better, as God and I settled into a routine.  Fitful nights became less frequent for me, but when they did happen, I happily chose to pray for her.  It brought me peace.

In my edited version, I explained to my little girl that even though she wasn’t part of our family, I had spent many, many hours praying for God to heal her.  God doesn’t always answer those prayers in the way we want, but this time, he did.

The joy in her face was priceless . . . “Oh, I get it.  You are crying because you are so happy for her and her team.”

Today, a girl I know, the one for whom I prayed, has a ticket to the dance – the state championship.  Replacing glass slippers with basketball hi-tops, she along with the rest of her team will once again play, with heart and perseverance, hoping to come back as the victors.

What she doesn’t know is someone in the village has been praying for a Cinderella finish . . . for a very long time.

sawyer's flagWhen we first envisioned doing something to fund the Reed Stevens Memorial Scholarship, we never saw an event as big as what Reed’s Run became.  The four runs produced many different results: some expected and others pleasant surprises.  The obvious by-products were a successful fundraising venture and a community event enjoyed by many. Among the unexpected were the blossoming of friendships and the renewal of friendships from long ago.

One of those friendships was rekindled in those early days in the hospital when Sawyer was still in the Intensive Care.  It was something akin to the proverbial blessings that those who have walked through tragedy really have eyes and hearts open enough to see.  The connection was with one of Sawyer’s godmothers.

As the days drew closer to the final run, we realized that we were going to have a house filled with loved ones as well as a few hotel rooms with other loved ones.  For those travelling from far away, we decided to send out an agenda of what we would be offering in the way of entertainment.  After working set-up all day Friday, a break would take place to cheer on Sawyer and the Lakers with a September/October birthday party at the fire pit in Reed’s garden afterwards.

To be honest, we didn’t think many would take us up on the offer for the football game.  To our surprise, there were 15 people that comprised the cheering section for number 74.  One among our group was Sawyer’s little god-brother, S, proudly clad in Laker blue and waving homemade flags emblazoned with Sawyer’s name and school “mascot”. S cheered on the team, and more than once he wondered aloud why the team or coaches weren’t listening to his flag as the score did not reflect his impassioned cheering. Sadly, Sawyer didn’t play for three fourths of the game, and for a while I felt like we had asked these loved ones from Georgia, California, western North Dakota, and Florida to come for nothing.  Then in the final few minutes, Sawyer and the other Junior Varsity guys went in.

All of a sudden an amazing tackle happens, and over the loudspeaker we hear, “Tackle made by Sawyer Stevens.” (This, of course, reads better if you do the loudspeaker echoing voice out loud.)  The Sawyer Stevens entourage cheered exuberantly, but none compared to little S.  He jumped up and down, declaring for all who would listen, “Sawyer listened to my flag. I knew it would work!”  I don’t really care what others would call the play of that game.  For one sophomore player, that was definitely it.

For the trip to the birthday bash, Sawyer rode with his god-family the 30 miles back to Marshall.  Even though I wasn’t there, the story told by his godmother about the trip home was priceless.  Huddled together in the back of the car with their heads touching were two brothers (one in high school and one in elementary) deep in conversation and game playing.

For the one who misses his big brother every day, it was a model example of brotherly love and what used to be.  For the rest of us, it was a reminder that even though the circumstances aren’t what we had planned, God’s vision of family is BIGGER than we could ever imagine.