This I Believe essays are in keeping with National Public Radio's original series. It's worth your time to check it out!
Dodgeball. Virtually everyone knows the game. I have played it plenty of times, yet this last time the familiar game gave me an entirely new perspective. I walked into the church gym, greeted by familiar faces, the squeak of my Converse on the basketball court floor barely audible above the low rumble of thirty teenagers’ whispered voices. I saw my best friend in the center of the crowd and turned to quietly plop down next to my younger sister on the edge of the crowd.
I attempted to clear my mind and focus on what the adults were saying. I strained to tear my brain away from the ever-present urge to march myself right back out the doors back to the security of my home. I had fought the temptations all week long and I was not about to give up then. I had gone to seminary through the rain with a smile on my face. I went to all three hours of church even though my best friend and sole support system was absent that day, and managed to not hate being there.
I got myself to the church gym to play my least favorite game in the world despite my aching abdomen, throbbing head, and heavy heart. I made all of that effort because I knew those were the right places to be. Please, do not get me wrong, I still had complete faith in my beliefs. However, a particular member of my faith repeatedly hurt myself and my family.
His actions made me physically ill each time I was in his presence. This man single-handedly squelched my usual excitement to attend church functions. Despite all of this, I knew if I wanted to feel as strong in my faith and as happy within my life as I had been a few months before, I needed to change my attitude. I had made my mind up at the start of the week that I would be better about my attitude towards church functions and I was not about to break that goal on only the third day.
With this in mind, I sat on the dirty gym floor and tried to concentrate on what the adults were saying. They finished their lesson and split the present youth into two teams.
Rather than play and risk getting hit in my sore body, I decided I would watch the game. I figured staying and observing was better than simply leaving. That way, I would still get the blessings of being where I was supposed to be. I stood on the side of the court and watched as red-faced teens hurled the rubber balls at one another. I heard the high-pitched whine as balls flew right in front of me. I smelled the nauseating stench of teenage male body odor and rubber. I kept my purpose in mind and smiled as I watched the chaos erupt before my eyes.
I admitted to myself that it was actually kind of fun, and perhaps all of my effort really was worth it. It was then that I felt first a sharp slap, and then a warm, numbing vibration seep into all of the skin on the left side of my face. “No-I did NOT just get nailed in the face with a dodgeball.”
Denial came almost as fast as the tears that sprang to my eyes. I laughed in disbelief, put a hand to my numb cheek, and walked out the door to the bathroom. Then I lost it. Fury and resentment ignited and coursed from my scalp to my toes. I was really making an effort! I was working to forgive the people who had wronged me. I had reached the point where I could smile cordially and say hello again. I had just reached the point of being willing to attend Tuesday night functions again, and I literally got slapped in the face for it. I was furious! I had recognized that I needed to change so I could feel as whole and happy as I did three months before, and as soon as I put forth real effort and began to make actual progress, a dodgeball nailed me in the face.
I allowed myself to be upset and threw myself a little pity party in the obnoxiously clean and bright church bathroom. I resented its happy, comforting atmosphere in that defeating moment. As I stood fuming, attempting to dry the tears that refused to stop flowing, my best friend entered the bathroom and stood directly in my field of vision with genuine eyes filled with concern. She smiled sincerely and asked if I was okay.
I instinctively replied yes, yet betraying tears slid down my cheeks admitting the truth to her. She smiled softly and wiped away the droplets, cracked a couple jokes, and helped make the bright bathroom atmosphere a little less obnoxious. The frustration seeped out with the final few tears and was replaced with a renewed sense of conviction in my goal. I remembered the painful truth that goals in life that are truly worth any effort are not going to be easy. Sometimes as soon as we set a goal and take our first steps towards progress, life decides to hurl a dodgeball at our faces.
Thankfully, we all have something or someone in our lives who can help dry the tears. Worthwhile goals will be difficult, and if we can stand up, brush ourselves, off, and continue on our way, we will accomplish what we want to accomplish. This I believe.
I attempted to clear my mind and focus on what the adults were saying. I strained to tear my brain away from the ever-present urge to march myself right back out the doors back to the security of my home. I had fought the temptations all week long and I was not about to give up then. I had gone to seminary through the rain with a smile on my face. I went to all three hours of church even though my best friend and sole support system was absent that day, and managed to not hate being there.
I got myself to the church gym to play my least favorite game in the world despite my aching abdomen, throbbing head, and heavy heart. I made all of that effort because I knew those were the right places to be. Please, do not get me wrong, I still had complete faith in my beliefs. However, a particular member of my faith repeatedly hurt myself and my family.
His actions made me physically ill each time I was in his presence. This man single-handedly squelched my usual excitement to attend church functions. Despite all of this, I knew if I wanted to feel as strong in my faith and as happy within my life as I had been a few months before, I needed to change my attitude. I had made my mind up at the start of the week that I would be better about my attitude towards church functions and I was not about to break that goal on only the third day.
With this in mind, I sat on the dirty gym floor and tried to concentrate on what the adults were saying. They finished their lesson and split the present youth into two teams.
Rather than play and risk getting hit in my sore body, I decided I would watch the game. I figured staying and observing was better than simply leaving. That way, I would still get the blessings of being where I was supposed to be. I stood on the side of the court and watched as red-faced teens hurled the rubber balls at one another. I heard the high-pitched whine as balls flew right in front of me. I smelled the nauseating stench of teenage male body odor and rubber. I kept my purpose in mind and smiled as I watched the chaos erupt before my eyes.
I admitted to myself that it was actually kind of fun, and perhaps all of my effort really was worth it. It was then that I felt first a sharp slap, and then a warm, numbing vibration seep into all of the skin on the left side of my face. “No-I did NOT just get nailed in the face with a dodgeball.”
Denial came almost as fast as the tears that sprang to my eyes. I laughed in disbelief, put a hand to my numb cheek, and walked out the door to the bathroom. Then I lost it. Fury and resentment ignited and coursed from my scalp to my toes. I was really making an effort! I was working to forgive the people who had wronged me. I had reached the point where I could smile cordially and say hello again. I had just reached the point of being willing to attend Tuesday night functions again, and I literally got slapped in the face for it. I was furious! I had recognized that I needed to change so I could feel as whole and happy as I did three months before, and as soon as I put forth real effort and began to make actual progress, a dodgeball nailed me in the face.
I allowed myself to be upset and threw myself a little pity party in the obnoxiously clean and bright church bathroom. I resented its happy, comforting atmosphere in that defeating moment. As I stood fuming, attempting to dry the tears that refused to stop flowing, my best friend entered the bathroom and stood directly in my field of vision with genuine eyes filled with concern. She smiled sincerely and asked if I was okay.
I instinctively replied yes, yet betraying tears slid down my cheeks admitting the truth to her. She smiled softly and wiped away the droplets, cracked a couple jokes, and helped make the bright bathroom atmosphere a little less obnoxious. The frustration seeped out with the final few tears and was replaced with a renewed sense of conviction in my goal. I remembered the painful truth that goals in life that are truly worth any effort are not going to be easy. Sometimes as soon as we set a goal and take our first steps towards progress, life decides to hurl a dodgeball at our faces.
Thankfully, we all have something or someone in our lives who can help dry the tears. Worthwhile goals will be difficult, and if we can stand up, brush ourselves, off, and continue on our way, we will accomplish what we want to accomplish. This I believe.