She had worked so hard for this moment, he explained to us all. Practice after practice. Drill after drill. And now, it all came together. She had beaten her opponent time and time again, up and down the court. Up and down the court. She may have been small, but that little body was mighty in the face of what appeared to be insurmountable odds. He sat in the stands, cheering on his baby. Flashes of first steps, gurgled ‘I love you’s and running hugs flooded his mind as he saw her accomplish another quarter. Only a few minutes remained. And he stood in amazement as his baby pranced about the fourth grade court. Could a prouder moment exist?
But the opponent grew tired. No little girl was going to make a fool of her, especially not when her team was so far behind. How could such a small girl be so fast? Surely she wasn’t made for basketball like her opponent. And there was no way she was going to get by one more time.
Daddy watched as his baby was thrown the ball. Time was running out. She took off sprinting down the court, every ounce of her called out for the basket. She began to break away from her opponent. And that’s when it happened…
She tripped. She had been pushed. Down went her body to the harsh floor. And down went her opponent’s foot. And at the sound of an ankle-bone cracking she screamed, “DADDY!”
And he was instantly at her side.
“She didn’t yell, ‘COACH!’ She didn’t yell, ‘TEAM!” He told us, “One word rose from the crowd, ‘DADDY!’ And to think that this pathetic, sinner ran so intensely to his baby. This shame of a father that he let be called Daddy…”
Tears streamed down his face,
“How much more does our Father come to us when we call, ‘ABBA!’
-Just a story that I wanted to share with you all. It reminded me of how overwhelming blessed we are to call Him Daddy. Praise be to God. For He is worthy.-