My mother was a fearless competitor. I remember watching her get ready to play softball with the church league. I admired the way the tee-shirt looked on her feminine body, but I was also impressed by the determination she wore on her brow and flickered from her blue eyes.
I remember playing on the park equipment when I heard she took one for the team right in the face. Our young family quickly gathered in the car to take mom home. Within twenty-four hours her perfect ivory complexion had turned to a light green and dark blue tender mess surrounding her left eye.
As I tried to comfort her by surrounding her with my favorite stuffed animals and bringing her toast I thought to myself "I don’t ever want to get hit in the face by a softball." My Dad talked on and on about Mom’s badge of honor. He was evidently proud that she acted so boldly to try to get the other team out, but I just patted her hand. Would her face always look like that?
Years later after my countless "bow outs" I sat in the stands as my young husband took his place on a different church softball team. He took the second base position seriously. As he stood in his church tee-shirt and baseball cap I knew that I should be watching, but my three little ones were getting bored.
Isaiah had sat for twenty minutes keeping score which made the older couples giggle at the four-year-olds knack for numbers and curiosity. Elaina a toddling two-year-old was soon running off, challenging me to catch her and bring her back to the stands. Meanwhile, baby Lydia had grown tired of the baby snacks I had packed and was starting to emit a curious smell from her diaper.
Isaiah followed me as I gave up on watching and took the three of them to the little park a few yards away. Soon Isaiah was playing in the sand as I put Elaina in the bucket swing.
“Mama push! Mama push!” she called as I took a look at Lydia’s pants. Yes, she had finished her work I could see, now I would have to spread out a blanket to change her while making sure Elaina was content. Thankful for the bucket swing I gave her a little push.
“Weeeee!” Elaina called out.
Internally I wondered how long this baseball game could last. Every minute felt like an hour with three little ones, but I knew I needed and wanted to be that “supportive” wife. Just as I finished changing Lydia a woman from the church called out my name as she came to my little tribe.
“Dianne, Brad has been hurt. They are taking him to the hospital. It’s his finger. It looks broken.” She said out of breath.
Sure enough, he had shattered his pinky. The softball came down at just the right angle to ruin our summer. When he finally came home from the emergency room he had a cast covering his wrist, and a promise for surgery.
Isaiah sat next to his daddy with his blue blanket crumpled up at his side trying to understand what happened on the softball diamond while he was playing in the sand.
“Daddy, how did you get that owie?"
Elaina tried to climb onto his lap with her favorite yellow bear under her arm. Concern was etched on her little tan face hemmed in with blond curls.
“Ouch, Ouch,” she said pointing to his cast.
After surgery, he had to spend the summer with pins holding his finger together. I was again convinced that I never wanted to play Softball. On the morning of his surgery to remove the pins my mother offered to watch the kids so I could go with him.
As I sat in the waiting room I opened my bible. As I read Ephesians 3:20, “Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be the glory…”
As I tried to read on I heard a woman behind me talking to someone about the impossibility of her husband’s condition. Suddenly, the Lord prompted me to go to her. Trembling I stood up and crossed the room as she said, “there is no way he can stop smoking but the doctors said if he doesn’t…”
“Excuse me,” I said feeling nervous as she stopped talking to look at me, “ I am a Christian and I couldn’t help but overhear that your husband needs prayer, can I pray over your situation right now?” I asked with trembling voice.
Because she was a complete stranger I didn’t know how she would take my boldness or my offer, but she quickly agreed feeling overcome by the crisis. So I prayed for her and for him, and when I was finished she thanked me before I returned to my seat at a nearby table.
As I picked my bible back up a different woman named Michelle approached me.
“Excuse me, she said excitedly. “I just heard you pray for that woman and I wondered do you know God? Is he really out there?”
Putting down my bible I turned to give my full attention to the woman who looked about my age. I offered the chair next to me for her to sit down. As she did the story came pouring out. Her husband was getting knee replacement surgery and was estimated to be out of work for two months. She too was a stay home mom and couldn’t figure out how they would make ends meet. Then she asked me again, “Do you think God is real? Could he really help us like you prayed he would for that woman?”
“Oh yes he can, Michelle, he can do more than you think or imagine he could. But have you ever asked Jesus Christ to be your Lord?” I said looking at the concerned furrow in her brow.
“No,” she said looking at her hands, “Could I?”
The openness of her heart and the new budding faith springing up as we talked moved me. I was surprised that sharing my faith could be so natural as I lead her into prayer for Jesus Christ to be her Savior. Afterward, we prayed for her husband and exchanged numbers. I felt such a joy in my heart I felt lighter than air as the nurse called my name.
Driving my still drugged up husband home and hearing his vows of undying affection I smiled as I knew he would need a good nap before I could tell him about my new friend Michelle. After feeding the children dinner and making sure Brad was comfortable I called the hospital to see what room Michelle’s husband would be in.
She picked up the phone. “Hi, Michelle, it's Dianne, the lady you met in the waiting room, how is your husband?”
She had already received a good report that the surgery went better than they thought. They said he would be released the next day. In that moment I decided I would visit them before he left for home to a small town thirty minutes from Waterloo.
The following day I came to meet them just before he was discharged. I felt the prompting of the Lord to give her the little money I had saved from my Birthday and my voice lesson earnings. With joy, I gave her the small sum praying that God would do exceedingly more than I could think or imagine for Michelle and her husband with the small contribution. Then we prayed.
It is the hushed moments in prayer that one steps from the firm foundation of the earth under foot to the light and airy presence of faith. In that atmosphere a "doctor's report", a "financial statement", a "hopeless cause" becomes transformed into something wrapped in the gold lining of hope.
“Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to Him be the glory…” Ephesians 3:20-21a.
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