Lumps

Looking through my photos this morning I found one that reminded me of an event in my childhood that literally made an impact on my life.

I loved playing in the yard as a kid. I climbed the walnut and apple trees and the playhouse roof. I build roads of dirt for my toy cars and forts of corn stalks. I swung on our swingset, spun around and flipped off of the climbing bar, spent innumerable hours riding my bike up and down the street and round and round the house attempting to jump over the front sidewalk with a makeshift ramp. Using my very own hammer, I pulled nails and straightened for use in whatever I was trying to build out of scrap lumber at the time. My brother and I kicked the soccer ball around, rode the titer-totter, performed concerts with our rubber band stringed, scrap wood guitars. We spent the summers in our Doughboy pool, gaining such tans that they lasted year round. To this day I love the outdoors.

One thing we did not do was play with hard balls. I have always wondered why they call those things “softballs.” They are not soft. They hurt like the dickens.

My son and I found this softball while walking along the dump road last Saturday evening. It reminded me of the one we had in our yard when I was a kid. I’m not sure where that water-logged softball came from. I only remember ever playing with it on one occasion. We were tossing it up and swinging at it with a bat. I don’t recall whether I ever got my turn swinging or not. I do remember standing at the other end of our long, mill-end house and attempting to catch. Unfortunately, I “caught” it in the temple and up popped quite a goose egg. Instant headache. I never wanted to play with a hard ball ever again. I still don’t. I can force myself to play to be sociable, but it’s definitely not my thing.

Thinking of that lump that caused me to avoid baseball all of my life makes me wonder how many other things I’ve avoided because of a single bad experience. Am I too quick to judge?

My prayer today, Lord, may I have your wisdom in judging today’s experiences. May I never miss any good plan you have for me over a single lump.