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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?

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