The Day I Played Quarterback

Today is NFL Sunday.  I was enjoying the game, but was very tired from the full weekend.  My four hour nap on Saturday does not count - one hour per child born is certainly excusable on rare occasions. 

As I lay down on the couch to participate in the game this afternoon, I closed my eyes for just a moment.  I almost let the cheers and whistles lull me to sleep and then  I began daydreaming.  I was remembering a day I played quarterback. 

Since I had kinda been the boy of the family, my dad taught me to throw a football, among many other things usually reserved for boys.  You see, I had been named John in the womb.  My heartbeat, the doctor said, had to be male.  Surprise!  I was a girl...later a ballerina, in fact.  But I loved the moments with my dad.  He taught me to corral cows, maneuver a truck, drive a golf ball, and throw a football... all before I was ten.  I still prefer to work outdoors over housework any day.  I would much prefer to trim the bushes than vacuum the house.  And I still remember the afternoons of learning to place my hand on the lace of the pigskin and throw a smooth one out to dad for a pass.  My terminology may not be perfect there.  I am not a football fanatic, but throwing to my dad was sweet pleasure!

In college, we had wing sports.  Each college gal and guy had a place to live on campus.  There were a few that commuted, but most of the single student body lived on campus.  The girls in their dorms and the boys in theirs - no co-eds at my Alma Matter.  I went to ORU, and a great place it was!  We became very close to our wing-mates and brother wingers. As the season passed, we went on outreaches, cookouts, chaperoned camp outs, and participated in wing sports.  The guys played while the gals cheered, and the favor was returned for us.  I bowed out my freshman year, transferring in the middle of the year and remembering that I was a ballerina and usually not considered athletic otherwise.  It was so much fun to cheer on the girls on my wing - they were quite competitive, and I admired that.  Aside from mostly warming the bench in basketball those first two years, I was mostly found in the bleachers.  It was not until my Junior year, that the girls roped me into playing with them.  I was the Chaplain on my wing that year, and my great group of very athletic girls twisted my arm.  They needed a quarterback, and after finding out I could throw a football, my duty was assigned. 

However, I had never actually PLAYED football before.  Oh, I had begged the boys in upper elementary to let me join them, but I was a ballerina girl remember and forced only to watch.  My best girlfriend was allowed to play, but she was not going to ballet lessons three days a week after school.  There is apparently a difference in a girl who can play and a girl who can throw.  This I found out in college.  The difference is courage!

Although my football arm is usually a beauty, terror apparently greatly affects it.  I still remember my brother wing shaking their heads in utter disgust after one game in particular.  They just could not understand why I had to fall to pieces in the midst of the pressure. 

I know it was only flag football, but those girls looked mean and I was their target.  They meant to intimidate and they did.  Finally we scratched all previous discussed plays and the running back would just plan on me handing off to her.  She could fly like the wind, so we scored quite a few that way.  The competition learned to expect the same play over and over.  These girls with brothers at home were playing for no mercy and did not come to lose.  I so wanted to be full of courage and throw with precision in the midst of the stress, but it was rare that particular game.  Intimidation brought about defeat.  What I loved to do became not much fun because I found myself failing and letting down those on my team.  It was more than a game for me.  I knew that then, but did not realize why until recently.

 I suppose I began daydreaming about that game on this particular day, because it is time to take courage.  So what that my lack of courage helped us lose that game.  I am probably the only one that still remembers it.  We were not playing for money! 

No matter what we are facing, no matter how many times we have let the enemy grab our flags, it is time to beat our chest like apes and know who we are!  I am learning who I am.  I am not created to tuck my tale and whimper away just because things get tough.  I am meant to stand my ground, eyeball the enemy and realize he is bluffing, put my arm back and toss the ball to THE FATHER.  He is waiting to catch it!

 " The wicked die and disappear, but the family of the godly stands firm."  Proverbs 12:7 NLT
"Many are the afflictions of the righteous: but the LORD delivereth him out of them all."  Psalm 34:19 NKJV