Daily Surrendering, Forever Trusting (part 1)

So often I find my worth in things of little or no value. Why I do this, I struggle with. Volleyball is no more than a sport, or a way to utilize the ability He has given me, or a way to stay fit. This volleyball season was a struggle for me. I thought I was adequate as a volleyball player. I though I was decent. Maybe I needed to learn patience. No, I did need to learn patience. All I wanted to do was play volleyball. To feel like a part of the team. To feel like I was good enough, or at least an important player. I wanted to feel needed. The middle of the season hit hard. My mind was seemingly at war with itself. I would sit in class, trying to focus on classwork, but all I would think about was what I did wrong, why I wasn't good enough all of the sudden. I could barely fall asleep, it seemed, before I would wake up and try to begin a good day, when all of the sudden only one thing took over my thoughts: volleyball. All of the stress and worry and inadequateness would well up inside me and I didn't know how to talk to Coach about it. I wasn't mad at anyone except myself, and I tried to push myself harder and harder. But for what? I never saw results in myself or my playing ability. I didn't receive more playing time. Was it because I wasn't playing from my heart and for the Lord? I thought I was. Every game I didn't get to play, my heart sank. My heart hurt when the score would read 25 on the last set, and I hadn't left my chair. It wasn't that my heart wasn't in it. Instead I sat on the bench, waiting, hoping for Coach to tell me to sub in. Maybe I lacked the drive. Maybe I didn't have enough talent. Maybe I was paranoid that my best, for the first time, wasn't good enough. Or was it my best?
        The thing that perhaps bothered or worried me the most was that when people asked why I no longer played as much, I didn't have an answer. I would tell them I didn't know why. My classmates, my parents, my siblings, my friends, alumni. I couldn't give them a solid reason. How could I when, in my own mind, I was still trying to process what I did or why I was not playing? Those people who asked though, they'll never really know how encouraging they were. To know someone besides me noticed. To have them ask me about it finally, I think, gave me the guts to ask Coach. To have Monica talk to me about it and have a new perspective on it. Perhaps the other girl needed it more at this point in her life than I did. Perhaps God was teaching me what it is to trust Him. I definitely was stretched by it. To have the kids say my name, pointing at me, wanting me to sub in. They weren't quiet about it. It was encouraging. But at the same time, I was afraid. I was afraid of what Coach would say if she heard them. I didn't have a reason to be afraid. She wasn't going to get mad. I was still scared.
         When I asked Coach why I wasn't playing much anymore, she said it was because I wasn't quick enough, I wasn't getting good passes, I wasn't covering. I felt selfish asking her why I didn't get to play. Isn't being part of the team wanting the best for it? Doesn't that mean I shouldn't be freaking out just because I have less time on the court? Shouldn't a team member always want whats best for the team? At least now I could tell myself and others a solid, legitimate reason. 

       

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