Page 56 of The Dating Game

Silas and I have a special relationship. One in which he dishes out teasing wisecracks, and in return I make him help me lead youth group worship.

The kidhas a great voice.

Not that I’d ever tell him this directly. Silas’s ego is already more than healthy. As the son of a single mom working her tail off to make ends meet, Silas needs quality time more than words of affirmation.

“I think I could be persuaded to spike a ball in your direction,” I tell him, earning a chuckle.

“Oooh, Will’s got smack talk.” Silas grins. “You worship the Lord with that mouth, Will?”

I laugh. The kid’s quick wit forever surprises me.

“Does he kiss Ms. Garza with that mouth?” Silas’s sidekick, Lee Banks, adds with a nudge to his friend’s side. The boys all start hooting.

I purposefully gave myself this high energy and often bordering on unruly group of boys. Partly because I didn’t want any of the other chaperones to have to deal with their rambunctious behavior and partly because I’m an extrovert. I get energy from being around other people, and the more energetic the other people are, the better.

But man, sometimes these kids can be real punks. Then again, I’m pretty sure I had my punkish moments as a teen too.

“Ya know, Lee,” I say as I get to my feet, “I think I changed my mind; my first spike of the night is headed your way.”

Chapter 22

Brooke

MercyCoastisusinga program called Mighty Warriors for their Midwinter Vacation Bible School. It’s unique in that instead of the typical format for VBS the lessons and activities incorporate sports by connecting the Bible to the skills and character traits needed to be an athlete. When I first heard this I was a bit nervous since, outside of dancing, I’m not much of an athlete, but I relaxed once I found out that one of the sports the kids can sign up for is dancing. At least until Carmen came bouncing up to me this morning to tell me that our group would be running the girls’ volleyball portion of the camp. Apparently that’s what she and the other eight girls in my group asked Will if they could do.

Volleyball. When I could be teaching dance, instead I’ll be pretending I know how to hit a ball over a net. Talk about being a living sacrifice.

I’ve never played volleyball, but I don’t need to have tried it before to know I won't be good at it. After an unfortunate incident involving a baseball and my two front teeth (baby teeth, thankfully), I stayed away from the vast majority of ball sports. Dance was always my thing. I loved it from the words, “first position, students.”

Unfortunately, the woman doing our training today seems bent on believing that I am going to turn into a regular Misty May after thisthree-hour session. Meanwhile I’m just hoping I don’t get hit in the head with a ball.

“So that’s the serving drill you’ll be using,” our trainer, whose name is Wendy, tells us. “As you’ll see in the booklet I gave you, it ties together really nicely with our Friday word of the day: perseverance. Now how about we give it a try before we move onto the next activity you’ll be doing. Brooke, you step up first and show the girls how it’s done.” She gestures me forward to demonstrate.

“Oh no,” I attempt to wave her off, “I’ll pass.”

“We already worked on passing earlier,” Wendy replies dryly. As if I need the reminder. She asked me to demonstrate for that drill too. The joke was on her on that one, though. She’s the one who had to go chasing after my errant passes. “Right now we’re working on serving. Now, c’mon. Don’t be shy. Set the example.”

Oh geez. Way to make me feel obligated. Repressing a sigh I step forward and take the ball from her.

“There you go,” Wendy enthuses. “Remember, on your knees first.”

I kneel down with the ball. At least this first step won’t be too bad; surely no one can serve a ball from this position. Kind of the point of the drill. The group discussion questions cover how if we can’t expect to be able to serve a ball over the net from kneeling, how can we expect to be able to follow Jesus if we don’t put ourselves in the best possible position for success. This, of course, then naturally segues into a discussion about how to put yourself in a position for success. (Bible reading, surrounding yourself with Christian friends, attending church, and praying regularly, being a few of the answers.)

Sure enough, I have no success serving from my knees. I don’t even hit the ball with my whole hand, instead managing to whack it with only my fingers. The ball drops about two feet in front of me.

“Alright,” Wendy says in her tinkly little voice, “good try. Not so easy from down there, is it?”

I manage a smile and shake of my head even though I’m thinking: It’s not going to be any easier when I stand up.

“Go ahead and get to your feet and let’s try that again. Remember, you want to connect with the ball on your palm, not your fingers.”

Yes, I dowantto do that, but wanting to do something doesn’t alway translate to actually being able to do it. At least our Sunday afternoon training is over after this drill. According to my schedule we’re already supposed to be done, but Wendy said we’re finished when she says we’re finished.

Patti’s group is in charge of dinner prep for the night, so I really didn’t have a good excuse to push back with.

“Alright, Brooke, toss the ball,” Wendy encourages since currently I’m the one delaying us from finishing. I’ve been moving the ball round and round in one hand as I contemplate the likelihood that I’ll totally whiff this thing, just swing and miss altogether.

No use delaying. I raise my right arm, throw the ball with my left, and…connect! With my elbow. My left elbow. How on earth did I do that? Good gracious. That was atrocious. So, so bad.

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