Page 109 of From Ice to Home
Faith.
“Lucas?” Hannah asks again, this time she’s in front of me. I don’t even know when she moved. Her hands are on my cheeks, her thumbs brushing away tears I didn’t know I’d cried. My gaze locks on hers, her green eyes searching for something.
“This might mean that I can’t play for the Rangers next year,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. The words feel unreal, yet I know they’re mine. Disconnected, yet true.
Getting traded is a hard reality in this world. Some players switch teams every three to four years, some even more frequent. I’ve silently been hoping and praying that I’d get to wear the Rangers jersey for a very long time, that I’ve worked hard enough to earn that spot.
“Why would it mean that?” she asks gently. “That was something horrible that happened to you out there, but thankGod you’re okay. Thank God that they’re only keeping you off the ice for twenty-four hours.”
“Yes, but it’s acriticaltwenty-four hours. This is the Cup final, Hannah.” My voice catches. “It’s what we all dream of.”
“And next year, you’ll be here again. I’m sure of it.”
I want to believe her. But fear is gnawing at me, working together with anger to get me down.
“If I can’t help the team win the Cup, why would they keep me around next year?” I ask the hard, realistic question. “I don’t have a no-trade clause in my contract. I could easily be traded to a different team. They could ship me off tomorrow and nobody would blink twice.”
“I don’t think they’ll trade you,” Hannah says, carefully running her hand through my hair, grounding me. “But even if they do, I’ll follow you wherever you want to go. You’re my husband. Where you go, I go. Your home is my home. Your God is my God.”
A shaky laugh escapes my lips. “Even if I get traded to the Flames? Calgary isverycold.”
“Sounds like we’ll get to start our honeymoon early then,” she says, smiling through the unshed tears. “And I’ll just stock up on my tuques.”
I let her words settle inside my heart. It’s strange to think that I’ll never be alone in this anymore. Being traded or losing the game…those things used to feel like the end of the world. But now, I’ll still have Hannah. I’ll still have my marriage to the most wonderful woman, the woman I’m convinced God handcrafted just for me.
“I want to be able to go out there,” I admit to her. “Iknowhow grateful I should be, I know God is faithful and I should trust His plan. But…” My voice breaks.
“But it’s hard,” she finishes for me. “And it’s not easy. Facing the possibility of laying down the thing you love most?” she slowly shakes her head, taking my hands in hers. “You’rehuman, Luke. You’re allowed to feel this way. You’re allowed to break, to grieve, to wrestle. As long as you don’t allow it to drown out the truth.”
I nod, eyes trained on our interlocked fingers, her thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of my hand. “And what’s the truth?”
“You’re worth more than the stats. More than your contract. More than your jersey. You’re a son of the Almighty. He’s got a plan and a purpose for your life that’s going to make this moment seem small in comparison.”
She leans forward, pressing her forehead against mine. I drink in her closeness and her vanilla scent. The warmth of her presence and her words envelopes me, easing my heartbeat, allowing my mind to clear.
I’ve got you, Lucas.
The tears come faster now, and I don’t try to stop them.
“I love you,” I say, my voice not as steady as I’d like it to be.
“I love you more.” She presses her lips against mine. Soft and sure.
And for the first time since I skated onto the ice, it feels like I can breathe more easily.
Not because the fear and the anger is gone.
But because faith is louder.
Because God is near.
Because I don’t have to fight anything alone anymore.
Sittingon the bench without my helmet or my stick feels wrong. I lean on the gratitude inside my heart instead of the confusion or the anger.
I’m here, I’m alright and I get to support my team in any way possible.
It’s better than nothing right?
