By
Dana Rausch
/ October 21, 2013
The disturbing dream had me waking at 2:30am with a jolt. Attempting to calm my racing heart and shake it from my mind I went to the living room to read. Unable to comprehend what I read I set the book aside and starting praying. “Oh God, please don’t let that dream come true! I am so afraid.” I sat in the darkness of the wee morning and began to unravel my thoughts of the coming day. It was the most anticipated game of the season, both semi-pro football teams going in undefeated. The competition was fierce. Rivalry and antagonism were energized through social media, emails and blogs. The battle heated up. The fight was on and both teams expected the victory.
The dream kept crowding my mind and the waves of fear crashing in. I had dreamed that my quarterback son was lying motionless on the field. With no doctor in attendance, we waited for an ambulance to arrive. Several minutes later he was still quiet and unmoving. And I awoke.Not sharing my thoughts or feelings with anyone I decided I would stay home. A slighted comment by my husband hurt my feelings so I jumped on the excuse to not go. The build-up of emotions was too much.
Then I began to think what if…….
· The dream comes true?
· He goes to the hospital?
· I am two hours away?
· I have to drive all that way alone to the hospital?
Like Mary, I pondered these things in my heart…….and went to the game!
It didn’t soothe my battling thoughts, they merely intensified.
Both teams forced to sit on one sideline creates problems in itself. Listening to the other fans comments, hearing the opposing team’s remarks, and having a lesser fan base keeps you tuned to what is going on.
I didn’t like it one bit. Like gas to a fire, it was fueling my fear.
Our touchdown in the first set of downs caused a flurry of upheaval. A second touchdown had their players going ballistic. Confusion, pandemonium and aggressiveness infused their players. As the game continued unsportsmanlike conduct was called repeatedly against them and three of their players were ejected.
During a play, my attention was riveted on watching the long ball my son had thrown fall into the hands of the intended receiver. I didn’t observe that back on the line of scrimmage one of the opposing players had come up behind him seconds after the call, grabbed him by the shoulder pads and swung him around to slam him to the ground. A scuffle erupted, a punch was thrown and ALL players reacted. Both benched cleared as yellow flags soared. My heart lurched when I saw my son in the thick of it. As I terrifyingly watched one ejected player less his shoulder pads and uniform charge the field to take anybody on. Oh God, here comes my dream!
A similar storm of fear hit the disciples in Matthew 8. As they crossed to the other side of the lake without warning a furious storm arose. They were being tossed around with waves sweeping over the boat as Jesus slept on. They woke him up frantically saying, “Lord, save us! We are going to drown!”
Like the disciples I was frantically pleading, “Oh God, don’t let my dream come true! Don’t let it come true! Don’t you care? LORD! Help me!”
Simultaneously a tempest of “distrust” hit hurricane proportions in my heart. My mind went into survival mode. I took over and ultimately said, “Forget it God! If you are not going to do something, I WILL! “
I sat there contemplating:
· How to make it back to our vehicle safely…
· What I would do if shots were fired…
· Being prepared to call 9-1-1…
· How to get my son off the field alive…
· The teams cannot shake hands at the end…
· The coaches better get the team ready to exit immediately…
Now, I am sure that at this point most of you are thinking I need to be admitted somewhere. You believe I live in a state of paranoia or at best are a creative “Drama Queen.” Honestly, all three may be true but you must admit with me:
Fear when allowed to run rampant spirals out of control.
The game ended with a 38-7 score a victory for us. Both teams shook hands at the end amicably, and my QB son rode back in our truck. For two hours he and my husband dissected EVERY play, throw, touchdown, penalty call and players moves, as I sat and contemplated. I understood how those disciples felt in their storm for I had just endured my own. Yet unlike them I didn’t allow God to calm my storm. Oh, He was willing, but I didn’t give him the chance. So as I held onto my own helm I was tossed around with waves of fear continually crashing in.
The disciples reached the other side of the lake in peace. I, on the other hand reached the other side in exhaustion, weariness and humbleness. Once again I had failed in trusting God. Another valuable lesson learned on God’s patience, mercy and grace. Even when I don’t think I need Him, He never leaves me or gives up on me.
NEVER has He failed me…