As I was saying last night, and I repeat, "No matter how hard I have tried, I haven't been able to come up with a parable for my granddaughter's basketball game last night. She played the game of her life--13 points with 83% shooting from the free-throw line (9/11). She played tough defense and, at 5'4", successfully fought for rebounds. After the game she was giddy and amazed at the same time. She had played the whole game without wearing her contacts. Anything farther than ten feet away was a blur. She never knew what the score was or how much time was on the clock unless she asked. She spotted her down-court teammates... Wait. I've got it. It's amazing what journaling can do. You will have to wait for tomorrow's post to get the rest."
Well, today is yesterday's tomorrow. As I was beginning to say last night, my granddaughter spotted her down-court teammates by locating their white jerseys, not their faces. She saw everything through the eyes of an extremely near-sighted young lady who has to order more contacts. In the meantime she wears glasses to see the whiteboard (or smart-board, or whatever has replaced the classroom blackboard) and to drive. Other that that, she wouldn't be caught dead wearing her glasses--especially on the basketball court.
My granddaughter had one defensive assignment during the game--keep a six-foot tall shooter from scoring. While Granddaughter played man-to-man defense, the rest of the team played zone. The opponent laughed, and exclaimed to her teammates, "I've got shorty on me," then gave everyone a high-five. My granddaughter performed well, and before long, a different tall-girl was taking the shots. My granddaughter was then reassigned to that shooter.
So the evening went, shifting from one shooter to the other, keeping a hand in their faces, hustling for their rebounds, and keeping out of foul trouble. She did what she was asked to do, and did it well. She couldn't clearly see the girl she was fighting against, not even her number. She just kept next to the tallest girl on the opposing team. The score board, the time clock, and other activities on the court didn't distract. They were all a blur anyway. The coach's instructions, the ref's whistle, and the opponent were all that mattered.
On offense, my granddaughter, who is not the greatest ball handler or shooter, kept drawing fouls. Eleven foul shots were attempted, and nine went swish. For a kid who has trouble making shots of any kind, this was unbelievable. Again, there were no visual distractions for her. She didn't see people moving in the bleachers, she couldn't see the opposing players ready to rebound. She just had to concentrate on an orange horizontal line on a white shape above the court. Swish.
When handling the ball, she shouted, "help" when trapped, moved into unoccupied spaces when she saw them, and passed off to the closest white shirt she could spot, . She was never sure who that girl was, but she knew it was someone on her side.
What is laughable now is the family's critique from the stands. "Why isn't she stepping into the ball? Why didn't she steal that pass?" We had no idea that most of the time she didn't know where the ball was. She just ran with the crowd, played her position on offense, and chased down the tallest girl she could find on defense.
Where is all this going? In my mind, scripture references about having our eyes opened, scales removed from our eyes, and looking at a reflection darkly, all show me that what I can see and understand of life is very limited. God reveals what he want me to see and hides the rest. That way I am not distracted by those other things that will interfere with my game-play.
He tells me about the enemies I must defend against, and the rebounds I will need to make. I'm told to call "help" when I'm trapped, pass off when I can, and help whoever is in need on my team, but I don't need to know who is wearing the white jerseys I see bounding around the court. I just need to know they are there.
I can see only the part of God's court that he shows me. I have to do what I've been told to do, do it the best I can, and trust that the rest of the team is doing what they have to do.
The bonus of playing of the Lord's team is the "Vision Improvement Program" that, over time, opens my eyes to more and more of the big picture. Even now, I see more clearly who is racing down court and into position for the next big plays in my Game of Life. I can put faces to those who are moving to the ball when I call for help. I also see more clearly the enemy's weaknesses as well as my own.
As for the scoreboard, I don't know what the score is, but the coach not only knows the score, he also knows how much we will win by. I don't know how much time is left on the clock either. All I know is it is running down quickly.
So, the game goes on. I play the best I can in my visual arena, and trust the coach and my teammates with the rest.
Some days it is nice to sit on the bench and cheer for the blurs running up and down the court.
Jan, Licorice, who left the rear-half of a mouse sitting on the Welcome Mat, and a beautiful doe who is munching on old leaves at the bottom of my front steps.
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