Monday, March 19, 2012

Bob and I just returned from watching Dane's school play baseball in Florida. Part of what made this trip possible was the generosity of a charity organization called Children are Precious that pays for respite care for special needs children. The nurse that cared for Brett had a dog that took to Brett right away, taking him on as his own personal charge and insisting on sleeping with his warm little body pressed right up against Brett's back. When it came time to take Brett home he starting growling and pulling on the nurse's pant leg with his teeth, horrified that his new friend was being take away so soon. Isn't that sweet? I think God gave dogs a sixth sense about kids with special needs...very touching!


The first couple of nights we stayed in a rather bad area in Naples (who would have thought there was such a thing as a "bad" area in Naples?). When we returned to the hotel after walking on the beach, I removed my sandals to clap the sand off of them and stepped right onto a hypodermic needle. Bob was furious. He even seemed mad at me, you would have thought that I just happened upon a nasty old needle in the parking lot and decided to jab it into myself just for giggles. Not a good start, but it got better.


We both get so nervous watching Dane pitch, that it's almost more fun to watch him root for his team from the dugout. The first game Dane started, he walked the first batter and the second batter got a triple. Bob said he felt like he was going to throw up (he looked like he was going to too). I was indignant, convinced that the ump had shrunk the strike zone to an impossible size and that the left field was unfairly sloped...how else could a blooper over the third baseman's head roll that fast into the pocket for a triple? He struck the next guy out, but because of a pesky rule that allows the batter to run if the catcher drops the ball on the third strike, he got on too. Dane pulled it together after that and pitched a decent three innings, but his arm ached and he was discouraged. How earnestly we both prayed that he would pitch well for his last game! Well, God gave us more than we could ask or imagine and allowed him to pitch a no-hitter (a rare feat in college baseball).


The last time Dane pitched a no-hitter was his senior year in high school. He had been through a particularly rough stretch and we ached for him. I woke up in the middle of the night before a big game praying for him, even asking God specifically that He would allow Dane to get 10 strike outs and allow zero hits. I told Bob about my specific request and he said, "Oh for crying out loud...just pray he has a good game." Well, guess what? Dane pitched a 10 strike out, no-hitter. I can't describe how personally loved I felt that God answered my seemingly far-fetched prayer. (Bob asked me to start praying for his hair after that).


I am feeling especially thankful today for answered prayers and the gift of being able get away knowing that Brett was being lovingly cared for at home, but I don't want to leave anyone with the impression that I'm not familiar with unanswered prayers. My thoughts on prayers that haven't been answered (at least not the way I wanted them to be) needs a blog of its own, and I'd rather save that for another day...