The Champ
Basketball Camp would be a fabulous idea. His daddy had been a high school star and always learned a lot at ball camp. In keeping with tradition, Layton headed to camp, as excited as his stoic personality would allow.
Poppa would drop off and Nana would pick up. We enjoyed the detailed explanation of his drills and the games. Of course, countenance changes had to match the content of the story. When, the topic switched to one on one competition, it was very serious. “I was the one-on-one champ today—it was me and Scotty, again” his soft breaths were as deep as his contemplation. “Nana, it was hard and I hope we do not have to do the one-on-one, again.” The next afternoon brought an almost identical report. “Scotty” was fierce, a real nemesis, a bruiser and a tough competitor on the basketball court. It would be fun to meet this young man and watch the competition during the final ceremonies.
My welcome to the camp finale could not have been more pleasant. An eight-year-old blonde beanstalk gave me a tight hug and a warm smile. She was especially precious because for years, we had been privy to her journey: biological family in turmoil, lives out of control, no hope, twists and turns in and out of the system, volunteer parents, drug use, court proceedings, fearful times, questions, supervised visits, no hope. Space and confidentiality will not permit me to untangle her story. Only God could have directed us through that impossible maze of bureaucracy to her “forever” family (their story a miracle all its own).
It was a pleasant surprise to see my little friend and tell her that my grandson was also at ball camp. “You may know him….his name is Layton” as quickly as she asked his last name; she answered with a mock scowl, “Layton, Layton Dickson?” “I almost beat him in one on one” she snipped with a giggle. The Lord was probably covering his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. He was probably sharing the details with Heaven. How could he keep from telling this story? After all, God is concerned with the details. It was almost impossible for me to keep from looking straight Heavenward and yelling, “You are amazing!” I know that my children are afraid that one day I will do just that…and that is very possible. The Lord is amazing and when He lets us see a fraction of his plan, it is too much to contain.
Many stories must simply be cloaked and chronicled. Her family’s privacy is paramount and of course, Scotty’s story is safe with me. Besides, it would be a complete affront to my dear grandson, if he knew that his Nana had helped his chief opponent get to basketball camp.