We just wrapped up basketball season with our son, the seventh grader. I like to say I’ve grown up in basketball as well, watching him play since the third grade. If there was one major improvement to the team as a whole this year, it was the way they adapted their play when facing different opponents. In fact, I’d go as far as saying the team who was able to adapt their style of play, to adjust the most, was the team able to come out on top. Every time.
Our fifth grade daughter is playing this year as well. We’re very proud of her. As my husband will say, she had to drink a bit out of the fire hose at first, being a “retired” gymnast, she learned lots very quickly, and yet now, she is one of the most solid defensive players. As I’ve watched, I notice different things in comparison to the seventh grade boys. Beyond the obvious, I can predict with a high percentage, what else girl will do with the ball when they have it. Though they’ve been taught the words of plays, literally walked through the bodily placement of plays, and could even tell you the “whys” of plays, come game time, they have a propensity to get into a default mode. The reason I know what they will probably do with the ball is because I’ve seen them do it over and over again. Without the conscious choice to make a change or an adaption, the results continue to remain the same. And might I say, the ball often gets taken away.
As I ran on the treadmill this morning, I found myself pondering this fact. How do I react to adjustments that need to be made in my life? Growing up and into my college years, I craved predictability. I heavy weighed pros and cons, looked at all angles before making a decision, mostly because I didn’t want to screw something up, but truly I was afraid to take a large risk without “knowing” what consequences would result. Because of this, I thought I was safe, I thought I was content, I thought I was relatively happy. What I didn’t realize was that I was choosing confinement.
And then…
The Lord tells me in order to gain life, I need to lose it. He tells me that He loves me, even before the world began, that He sent His son to a horrible death all while knowing every single sin I would commit in my lifetime, and that no-thing could ever separate me from this unconditional love, no-thing I could ever do would be enough to earn a place at his table, so He made a way. And over time, I’ve come to believe this truth. And now I’m a bit further along in my journey, and I can say that I no longer “worry” about these adjustments (most days). And in worry’s place, know what I’ve found? Freedom. Freedom in that I don’t have to be God, play Good, nor handle the things that God handles. And I have adjustments all the time. And now I can flow with them, in them, in peace. Do I KNOW the results of these adjustments before they happen, or even why they’re happening? Nope I, don’t. But I trust.
And when I’m floundering in weariness, confusion, or frustration, I stand on what I know. Truth. And I choose to trust. And therein lies the adventures of life. Had “this” not happened, I wouldn’t have known “this”, or had “that”. Ironic, but as I type this, my husband comes out of his office, and he has something he wants to share. I’m mid-thought, and yet I desire to give him my attention at the same time. Choices. And then I have an opportunity to see a pre-performance of my daughter’s music program at her school, and my household project vies for my attention to finish. And I step into the next choice. And at the end of the day, when sleep begs, I want to let my actions give credence to my priorities. My daughter’s jump n’ hug was its own reward. And when they do, sleep comes easily and peaceful.
And do I have this all figured-out? Not even close. But today, when faced with work adjustments before my eyes were even focused, I knew that His plan would live out, and I could trust that this was the best plan for the day. Why? Because in making the choice to trust over and over again, THIS has become my default mode. And the fret, the worry, and anxiety just forget to show up. They no longer are my first visitors. They may make a guest appearance at the table, but they are easily dismissed, no longer invited to stay. Others may ask to take a seat as well, doubt, negative-self-talk, and condemnation, but they are dismissed as well. Those that remain are joy, peace, and contentment. These, my friends, are the sweet fruits designed for us to partake in. Are we willing to lose our lives, only to gain them?
Take it from a bad basketball player (and I don’t mean that figuratively), I’ve learned from both my Father and my children alike. This team sport of life is better lived when seeing the betterment of adjustments. What are your thoughts?
Filed under: thoughts, treadmill
