I’ve become part of the circle of life.
I’m not lifting my kids on a rock in the savannah. None of us is becoming food for fearsome beasts.
But I’m doing what I did twenty-odd years ago with my own children.
I had the privilege of taking my oldest grandson, Ethan, to his practice recently. As we drove, I looked up at the dark clouds forming overhead. And I knew what was going to happen. It always happens when you have to drive great distances for something necessary.
But it wasn’t happening yet. So on we drove.
Not quite fifteen minutes into the practice, the storm hit. Lightly at first. Then with greater force, the rain hurled down. I sat, comfortably dry in my car, trying to see what was happening.
I couldn’t see through the torrents of rain. The wipers came on.
And I had to laugh.
There’s a saying in soccer: “Anyone who thinks sunshine is happiness has never played soccer in the rain.” I’m not sure who came up with it, but I’m sure it had to be a boy. It doesn’t matter what age.
They were splashing through puddles, kicking water with ball. Sliding on whatever body part hit the ground first.
All I could think was my mascara would run.
Then something happened that changed everything,
Lightning struck not too far from the field, exaggerated by the canon-blast of thunder. The white electricity of the bolt made everyone blink.
“Off the field! Now!”
With the wipers going, I saw what looked like a beehive that just got poked. Kids swarmed off that field, running faster than they had all practice. (Bet those coaches were wondering how they could harness that speed on any day.)
We live in the lightning capital of the world. (That’s what the PR people tell us.) There are some things that we don’t mess with. Lightning is one of them.
Ethan got in the car, soaked and grinning. “That was awesome!” (Note to self–put towels in the trunk for such occasions.)
We all have limits on what we will and won’t do. Some are driven by logic. (Don’t play in the lightning. Don’t play in the middle of the street. Don’t eat berries the birds don’t eat.)
Some are driven by conviction. A firmly held strong belief. Not an opinion that could be changed by a great argument. Not something affected by a change in circumstances. Something on which I would stake my life and reputation.
A hill worth dying on.
For me, it all revolves around my relationship with Jesus and the truth of the Bible. Saying that is a no-brainer.
The question I find myself dealing with is am I living as if that were true? Am I all in, or am I just pretending so others will think I’m a woman of conviction?
Are you living your convictions as if they were worthy of your life–and death?
The first photo is courtesy of flickr.com.
The second photo is courtesy of hamdensoccer.com.