Thursday, October 22, 2009

I Felt Bad That I Couldn't Be His Hero

2009 Friday Night Lights—Week 5

Last night marked the game of the inner city rivalry. It’s never much of a competition. After all, our school is much larger. Nevertheless, for the fun of it, they call it a rivalry. With our record of 1-3, it looked to be a better competition than usual. In fact this game was picked by the local paper to be the upset of the season. There was some hype: the pep band led a parade of the team followed by the mass of students into the stadium. I looked for B. He was easy to spot- only two kids are injured and thus just wearing their jersey with street clothes. He was the one with a high and tight haircut and black sweats. (The kid hasn’t worn jeans since he was 3.) He stood next to the coaches during the warm up sprints, and then was very busy on the sidelines managing the defensive play clip board, and always holding a football with his other hand. He looked somewhat content with the course before him.
I sat in the stands watching him walk out to take his usual spot next to his quarterback lined up for the Nation Anthem. As my eyes fixated in the lights by the flag, my thoughts turned to an experience I had when I was 5 years old. It was just a few weeks before Kindergarten when my dad told us the empty house next had sold and we would be getting new neighbors. To my sheer delight he told us that they had 2 daughters, one of which was my age. My new neighbor Jenea quickly became my best friend. Her dad was the new principal at the high school which was adjacent to the elementary school we would soon attend. As Jenea and I readied for Kindergarten our mothers wanted us to have no doubts in the course we were to walk to and from school. They walked it with us many times, making sure we knew the way. Several weeks into Kindergarten, the library was introduced to us. Jenea and I quickly found a book to borrow and take home. The librarian reminded us to take special care of these books and return them next week in exchange for another. We agreed. The next week, Jenea and I met out in front of our homes on the sidewalk. Jenea was so excited to tell me that her dad told her of another way we could go to school. I tucked my book beneath one arm and clasped my hand in my friend’s as we skipped down the sidewalk on our NEW way to school. At one point conflict arose as the sidewalk’s concrete was broken. It was marked off and we could not pass. We noted our options and justified that since no cars were coming and it would be a short walk into the street, it was okay. As I stepped off the curb, I tripped. Immediate fear overtook me. My fall caused me to drop my library book which fell into the water run-off grate beneath the street. I cried. I cried for my disobedience in going the wrong way to school, walking in the street, and failing to take good care of my library book. Jenea insisted we should continue on to school and that her dad would take care of everything. I didn’t listen. Instead, I broke another rule. I turned around the other direction and ran home as fast as I could sobbing the entire way. Unexpectedly my dad was still home. I poured my regretful heart out to him. I recounted the tragedy as it had unfolded. My dad made a phone call, then took my small hand securely within his. I did not understand what we were going to do, but I knew I could trust him and did so by following him. A man from the city met us there. He removed the large bolts and the grate. My dad borrowed his ladder and retrieved my library book. Then without a word but of gratitude to the city worker, he walked with me to school.
My dad was my hero that day. He made all the fear and sadness go away.
As the team took the field, I felt sad for B, that he couldn’t be out there with him- that he couldn’t finally get to play a position he had worked so hard to be good at. I felt bad that I couldn’t be his hero and make all the hard parts about this go away. Then I thought about how this trial is one more part of the refiner’s fire that my son has the opportunity to work through. I thought about how much stronger he could be if he chooses to remain faithful during this adversity.
I am okay with not being able to rescue him. After all, he is no longer five. I pray the Lord will be generous in compensating him, and that we can all be patient with the Lord’s time schedule and His perfect wisdom.
Our team won, 24-14. At the end the students encircled the team on the field and they all sang the fight song with much pride and spirit. Hopefully, he will remember this someday—all of it. . .
To be continued. . .

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