We have been spending our summer at the baseball field. In fact, we spent the past few summers at the baseball field. Our son Sam loves baseball—and I have to say, he can really hit that ball. He is playing now in what is called the “major” league for ten- to eleven-year-olds. But like most kids, Sam started off playing coaches pitch T-ball for two summers, and we had a ball cheering with the other parents and grandparents at the games. It is a hoot to watch some of the really young ones run the wrong way on the bases or decide that the outfield is as good a place as any to go to the bathroom so they just “drop ’em.” I finally took my video camera and got some great moments from a couple of games.

When Sam was about five, he played catcher and was doing okay, but he wasn’t being aggressive enough to tag a guy out when he came from third base to home. I remember telling Sam that if he tagged a guy out at home, I would run out onto the field and pick him up and twirl him around right there at home plate. I’m not sure either of us thought I would actually do it.

Well, wouldn’t you know, toward the end of the very next game, a runner came from third and was heading home. One of the other kids threw the ball to Sam at home plate—and Sam caught and tagged the guy out. Then he looked up at me and grinned under his catcher’s mask as if to ask, Well . . . are you gonna do it? So I did. I ran onto the field—you know the dads were just dying—and I picked up Sam and twirled him around. We both just giggled. He did tell me on the way home from the game, “Mom, now you know when I get to the pros, you won’t be able to do that.” Duh!

One of the biggest honors for these young boys is to be chosen for the All-Star team at the end of the season. This consists of three or four players from each of the twelve teams, and they play tournaments for another month. Last year Sam didn’t make it because it was his first year, and honestly he was just learning the game. However, this year he has worked hard and has been consistently one of the better players on his team. We had already picked out in our minds who the four players from our team would be: Chandler and Levi—Sam’s two very best friends. And then another kid, Jacob. We had Sam picked for the fourth. I don’t know who was more into our armchair team selection—Sam or us. (We didn’t talk about it a whole lot in front of Sam “just in case.”) But anyway, Don and I thought we had it all figured out. Sam even talked about how fun it would be to play on All-Stars with Chandler and Levi.

We had a big team party after our final game of the season, and Don and I overheard other parents talking about how they needed to take their kid to the All-Star tryouts that same evening. As we began to inquire, our hearts sank. We checked and rechecked our voice mail on our house phone and both of our cell phones. No message. Sam had not been called, and he had not been asked to be an All-Star.

Later, we found out that they had chosen only three players from our team, not four. We knew we had to tell Sam, but we didn’t want it to be too big of a deal or too little of a deal, you know what I mean? Finally, Sam heard Chandler say something about All-Stars and asked us if anyone had called him. We shared with him that we hadn’t gotten a call and that he wouldn’t be in All-Stars. Don and I were trying so hard not to cry in front of him. He had really worked hard and had improved so much. The sweetest thing was to see how Chandler reacted. He was so disappointed that Sam wasn’t going to be playing with them.

Well, we let the news settle with Sam. He was kind of quiet for a little while and then he got right back to being his energetic and wild self. Still, Don and I, and now Papa (my dad) were having a difficult time with it. After a couple of hours, my dad just couldn’t stand it anymore. He got one of his old trophies (and he has many, many trophies from his years of sports) and took the nameplate off. He then brought it to our house to give to Sam. He told Sam that he wanted him to have this trophy because he felt Sam had been the Most Valuable Player on his team. What a picture of grace—our son received a trophy he did not earn but was freely given by his loving grandfather.

By this point, Don and I were crying and Papa was crying and Sam’s eyes were as big as saucers. Sam took the trophy and held it and looked at it and then hugged it. It was an amazing moment. My dad, who truly has been Mr. Athlete all of his life, said that when he was Sam’s age he never made an All-Star team, but he was given the trophy for Most Valuable Player.

Okay, so we didn’t exactly play by the rules of the summer baseball league, but we played by the rule at the moment that said Sam needed a little nudge of encouragement. It may not have been the way everyone else did it, but for Sam, it was what was meant to be, and it meant a great deal to all of us. Sam was still a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be playing All-Stars with his friends, but in the midst of that, there was a blessing that meant even more.

This was an eternal moment—it reminded me of how God takes our hurts and gives us back something better. Sometimes our rules don’t look exactly like God’s, but then he’s been playing the game a lot longer than we have. God doesn’t take our hurt away, but he shares it alongside us, helping us to learn and grow from it. And he gives us a blessing in the midst of it. I’ll play on his team, any day!