Dreaming of Paintball

Rumble.  Squeak.  The garage door opening.  They’re back! 

Rolling out of bed, I creep to the top of the stairs.  Peering down over the banister, I don’t see anyone.  Pause.  Anyone coming in?  Listening.  Nope.  Inching down the stairs, I pad over to the kitchen.  Hearing voices through the door, I take a peek.  Ah, they’re standing outside!  Slipping on my shoes, I step out to join them.

Car trunk is open with paintball guns neatly lined-up inside.  Piles of dirty paintball laundry stuffed in bags and tossed to the side.  Busy stacking the pod packs and face masks out to rinse, I watch the guys stumble back and forth to organize the equipment.  Slowly bending down, some of the guys sit on the ground with deep sighs of relief.  *smirk*  They each must have played hard.  Today, Noel took some of the young men to play advanced paintball.  Some of these young men have played with us for a couple of years… This time, they’re helping us clean the equipment they used.  LOL… did I mention… there’s a LOT of stuff to clean?  *wide grin*

Squatting down, I join in the fun.  Stories fly back and forth of shooting and being shot at, paintballs that bounce and don’t break, dodging, attacking, bunkering (getting shot at close range), running drills, shooting one-on-one… *drool*

Energy. 

Excitement. 

Adrenaline. 

The smell of broken paint permeates the air.  Dirt and paint are smeared on clothing.  Feet shuffle.  Voices rumble. 

A part of me is so envious.  I want to go out and play.  I want to hunt others down and to be hunted on the paintball field.  I want to polish my techniques: stay tucked-in tight, run fast, slide, attack, dodge.  I want to feel the breeze through gaps in my gear, work my muscles to the point of collapse, experience the heart-pounding adrenaline, eyes darting for targets, mind whirling for a better attack angle.  I miss paintball.  It’s times like this, when all the dirty gear is spread out, that I remember what my body used to be able to do.  I remember how far I’ve fallen.  I acknowledge how much more climbing I still need to do.

Someday… 

Someday I will return to the paintball field.  I will run my body hard with no concern of consequences.  I will shoot and be shot at.  I will once again crawl, slide, hide, stand and run.   I will hear my heart thumping in my ears.  I will have my muscles burn with fatigue.  I will once again put my gear on dry and peel them off soaking with sweat.  My blood will flow fast and hard.  New bruises and welts will appear.  Blood will drip from scrapes and cuts. 

Awesome.

I love playing paintball: the challenge, the teamwork, the communication.  Protecting and being protected.  A combination of patience and aggressiveness.  Paintball is more than just shooting your opponents.  Attitude matters.  Heart.  Hope.  Integrity.  Battling between a fine line of winning and losing where sometimes a slip or a random shot can make all the difference.  Luck.  Strength.  Wisdom.  Skill.  Experience.

For now, I can only assist.  I’m too tired to even make it out to the field to cheer people on, but just for now… just for this short period of time, I want to be here, right in the midst of sweaty gear, paint-smeared guns, tired players and bask in the stories of defeat and of success.

Father God, times like these I wish I was well again.  My fingers are itching to play paintball.  I crave carrying my gun and dodging paint.  As I look at my gear, my heart pounds in anticipation.  When I actually lift my equipment, not even fully geared in pads or carrying a load of paint, not even 5 minutes and my body is quivering in complaint.  After verbally assisting with the clean-up outside, I’m feeling so tired I sit at the dinner table.  Still more tired, I half-lay on the couch.  Not good enough.  *deep sigh*  Giving up, I crawl upstairs to lie in bed.

Lord, when will I recover?  When can I play paintball again?  Even just a little bit.  Father God, Lord of Heaven and Earth… give me the strength to return to work full-time and the endurance to play like I once used to.

Thank you for helping my body heal and letting me slowly get stronger.  Thank you for giving me the opportunity and the wisdom to rest.  Thank you that my most recent CT scan is clear of any abnormal growth.  Yay!!!  I won't have to see the cancer doctor for another 4 months!  Thank you, Lord God, that in you, I always have hope, purpose and goals to look forward to.  Thank you for creating me with a personality that doesn’t easily give up.  Thank you for my stubbornness, my strength in you and the courage you’ve given me to live this life. 

In Jesus’ name I give God all the glory, in good times and bad, amen.

See you all next week!  *hugs*

K

 

Aftermath clean-up of paintball equipment with Benson hanging out... this is what our dinner table looks like: