Take Me Out to the Ball Game
After such a stellar experience at the Rocket's basketball game, Rick and I figured Josiah might enjoy a professional baseball game.
Well, that's not really accurate.
Truth be told, the Cleveland Indians were in town. Rick's from Cleveland and has followed the team for as long as I can remember.
They never play in Houston. This was a first and Rick wanted to be there.
So, we bought inexpensive tickets and arrived at the game early.
Josiah sat comfortably in his seat. There was no bouncing or frenzied activity.
We fed him some cotton candy, though he didn't seem too excited about that, and then some pizza.
Josiah was so relaxed and contented that Rick and I commented he must be meant to attend professional sporting events.
Truly, we figured this might be the ONE thing we could do together as a family.
That was somewhere around the 1st inning.
By the beginning of the 3rd inning, Josiah had other plans.
He jumped up out of his seat, crawled over me and then Rick and rapidly bolted up the center stairs to the top of the stadium.
When he reached the wall behind the top most row of seats, he came unglued.
I'm guessing he thought there would be an exit up there.
I tried to calmly explain that we had to go down the steps to get out.
Josiah wasn't listening. He was very quickly melting down.
He began to scream.
Rick and I tried to pick him up. We'll just whisk this kid out of here we thought.
That was nearly impossible.
Josiah's arms and legs were flailing. He was frantic.
I'm sure we were quite a sight for those sports fans who chose to sit in the nose bleed section with us.
When faced with challenging circumstances, the brain resorts to just about any solution.
Rick came up with this one. I would grab Josiah's arms. He'd grab Josiah's legs. We'd hoist the boy up on the metal handrail, then slide him down the stairs.
Even if that was a viable option, Josiah was so done with not being able to escape the stadium that it would have been impossible to get a good grip on any of his limbs.
We struggled with him for what felt like an eternity, but probably was only about 5 minutes.
I could feel eyes staring at us as I gently tried to console Josiah, pointing the only way to the exit, down.
Long ago, I learned that in situations like these, it's best to blot out the rest of the world and to just focus on helping Josiah.
In retrospect, I'm a little surprised that no one offered to help. It was quite clear Rick and I were having great difficulty. An extra pair of hands would have made all the difference I think.
But, then again, it would have been equally as difficult to even know what to do or how to help.
I kept signing, 'home' and 'finished' hoping Josiah would get the message that we were trying to help.
He didn't.
So, I blotted out the glares and finally made the executive decision to end the fun.
With all the determined strength I could muster, I bent down and scooped that boy up in one fell swoop.
He grabbed at my hair and started scratching my neck, fighting to get away.
I'm not sure how we made it down those stairs but once Josiah saw the hallway, he dropped from my arms and started running.
I'll spare all the details of how Rick tried to swap our tickets in for better seats, thinking Josiah would do better if we were closer to the field, and of how he asked if we could just stay til the 5th inning because that's when they gave out souvenir bats to the fans.
It's all a blur quite honestly anyway.
All I know is Josiah was DONE which meant we had to be too.
Rick had to walk back to our seats to retrieve the things we abandoned earlier. I had to chase after Josiah who peeled away from me yet again.
He found a door and bolted through. It was only when he saw large concrete steps descending for many floors, that he stopped.
I stopped too.
And then, Josiah pushed me down and attempted to climb on my back.
He scrambled up it actually.
This poor boy was so frightened, I gave in.
I let 72 pounds of wailing, shaking child ride piggy back down 3 flights of stairs supported only by my weak, equally shaky arthritic knees, only stopping long enough to apologize to those passing by, every so often.
Rick met up with us at the bottom of the stairs.
We made our way out of the stadium.
Suddenly, I had a thought. Maybe Josiah was hungry. Maybe he just wanted more food and didn't know how to ask for it. Maybe his attempt to leave was to get food.
I can't really be sure, but I do know this.
I pulled a chocolate peanut butter nutrition bar from my bag and gave it to Josiah.
The crying stopped. He gobbled it down.
Moments later, he was smiling and bouncing as we walked to the parking lot.
Maybe it was worth it. Because in the end, Rick got to see his team play after all.
The next day, he went to the game. All by himself.
And sat in a much better seat
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1 comments
Dear sister Sandy I am following Josiah's journey. Every event has purpose. As you share it through your posts on your blog while going throuh the story God teaches us who are not in your place how to be patient. I am learning throgh Josaih's Journey. I know for sure that he is such a blessing to you and his siblings. I am praying for you as a parents and Josaiah too. We have one family in our church and the Lord had given them the only son who was like Josiah. His life was a blessing to his parents and to the church members. Well I feel like visiting your family and praying for Josiah. I will be in States from 13th June till the third week of July. As I told you in my earlier comment on your post that I am in the Pastoral ministry in the great city of Mumbai, India.
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