Getting On Base

When I was a child, my dad coached my softball team. I played from the time I was in t-ball until high school. Having your dad as your coach was a love-hate relationship for me. He knew my weaknesses and accentuated my strengths, but MAN he pushed my buttons. I was never a powerful player. I usually always played because I had a real knack for being able to get on base. My dad was amazing about being able to read a pitcher, the field, a situation and then tell me where to hit the ball, bunt the ball or simply try to get the pitcher to walk me. Because my strength was being on a base. I was as skinny as a rail but fast. My dad knew if we were going to win, I had to get on base. I never remember scoring a home run, or being the victor for my team and I often lamented about my inadequacies but my dad always said he would take fifteen players just like me instead of fifteen who may strike out or may hit a grand slam. He said what was important was learning to listen to his instruction and getting on base.
I remembered that today when I was lamenting to my Heavenly Father about my inadequacies about being a mother, an advocate and doing my part in this crazy game we call life. I softly was reminded that it isn't about who God calls to do what, it's being ready when He does.