Skip to main content

Trying to "end run" God

If you're a football fan, you know what an end run is. From Merriam-Webster:
a football play in which the ballcarrier attempts to run wide around the end of the line
We try to "end run" God a lot. I do. I figure I know better. I've got this - no need to worry the Big Guy about such a trivial thing.

Of course, it never works.

Like the puppy above, when we try and evade the tough obstacle (even though we KNOW we will eventually have to do it), we end up - well, off in the bushes.

But oh! How I wished my way worked. I'd love to take a flying leap and land smoothly and gracefully. People would be in awe, as if watching Simone Biles nail a balance beam routine that no one else would even attempt. I would shyly look down and blush - just lightly - and acknowledge (But humbly! Oh so humbly!) my achievement.

But no: I am the one pulling myself out of the bushes, scratches all over my legs and twigs in my hair. I'd hear that gentle but loving voice of God saying, "Told you so." And I'd blush furiously, knowing I looked like a fool.

In 2015, I left a job that had become unbearable due to office politics. I began a new job ... and was promptly fired four days later. "Uh??? How did that happen?" I couldn't figure out why God would lead me out into the desert, only to find myself stranded on a hunk of wood in the ocean. That's not how this is supposed to work, I told God. I did what you wanted!!!

Then my mom got really sick, and I was able to be with her full-time for the last weeks of her life. "Thanks, God," I said, a wee bit sheepishly.

Right now, I'm on a tear because someone didn't do their job, prolonging my wait for a surgery that will alleviate the bone-crunching, on-the-floor-weeping, unrelenting pain I've been in for most of the past year. Everything was on schedule - MY schedule. And then, yesterday, I found out that some necessary paperwork that should have been taken care of WEEKS ago - eh, never happened. There was a lot of finger-pointing and dodging of responsibility.

(The nurse from the insurance company asked me yesterday, "Do you have adequate pain meds for the time being?" I said, "If I had adequate pain meds, I wouldn't need the damn surgery!")

So, I'm waiting. Maybe it's not such a bad thing. I don't know what God knows. There may be a perfectly good reason that only He is privy to that makes waiting a good idea. I may never know, this side of Heaven. I guess I'll have to figure out the stairs instead of launching myself into the bushes. No end runs. Patience.

And I didn't even pray for patience. Isn't God good?


Popular posts from this blog

Trauma Mama

Dear Husband and I both enjoy certain medical shows, such as "ER" and "Code Black." ("St. Elsewhere" was another fave!) These shows revolve around trauma: humans who'd been ambushed by life: a car accident, a fire, and abuse, as examples.

More often than not, these shows also highlight the trauma the doctors and nurses needed to deal with. Having a patient die is always offensive to a doctor: they are charged with saving lives and losing one is the ultimate failure. Nurses spend more time with patients, and can forge strong bonds with people that may be in their lives for just a few days.

But trauma doesn't always look like a bloody body being wheeled into an emergency room, or a house surrounded by fire trucks and police cars. Trauma comes in many forms.

According to one website, trauma can look like surgery. It can look like moving. Trauma can be losing a beloved spouse or more horrifying, a child. Trauma can also be chronic pain, loneliness, m…

Be Brave

A few years ago, it came to my attention that a young family member was struggling with anxiety and depression. I was able to share with her a bit of my own struggles, and let her know she wasn't alone.

A few weeks after our talk, I saw the movie, "Brave." It struck me that the young protagonist, Merida, modeled a great quality. She was indeed brave.

Being brave is not about recklessness. It is not about confidence. It's not about being foolish, or looking for glory in the eyes of others.

Bravery is about doing what is right, even when you are a quivering mess. It's about knowing that things may not turn out the way you expected, but forging ahead anyway. Being brave is standing by the hospital bed while a loved one is dying, and all you really want to do is turn back time. Bravery is standing up to a bully, when your legs are screaming for you to run. Brave is doing what needs to be done even when you're scared and tired and feeling helpless and hopeless.

I …