More Than Fine…

Baseball? Nah, I’ll Preach

// September 29th, 2009 // Uncategorized

Guest post by Sarah M. Salter www.sarahsalter.com. This is the perspective I want for our players in I Love Baseball.

Cheesy was one of our translators on my second short term medical mission to the Dominican Republic.  His real name is Isai (pronounced EE-SY by the correct, EE-ZEE by the lazy and that’s where they got Cheesy from).  When Isai stepped on our bus with the other translators at the airport, we all sort of laughed and stared for two reasons.  First, he had the biggest, cheesiest grin that we’d ever seen.  And second, he was tall.  WAY tall.  In a country where most men are below average for height, Isai is 6′7". 

All week, I worked on the other side of the clinic from Isai.  He translated for the children’s ministry station.  I was the pharmacist and translated for the pharmacy.  And on the rare occasion that I would get a chance to look up from the pharmacy table, I would look around and see Isai standing head and shoulders above everyone else with a huge cheesy grin on his face.  Even in a 100+ degree room, with hundreds of sweating and irritable people, his smile just sort of lifted the burden.  What a blessing!

Wednesday afternoon when we were on the hour bus ride home from the clinic, I heard the host missionary say to her sixteen-year-old son, "I’m so sorry about Isai." 

I snapped to attention.  "What about Isai?"

"He was being scouted by three different US professional baseball teams, but he injured his shoulder.  He’s not going to be able to play."

My heart broke a little and I turned in the seat so that I could turn around and see Cheesy where he sat in the back of the bus with our teenagers.  He caught my eyes and smiled and waved.  I smiled and waved back, then turned back around to sit and look out the window.

"Lord, I know he must hurt over this.  How can he be so happy when his dreams are gone?"

God didn’t answer me really.  But seeing the joy that Cheesy had, I couldn’t really be sad for him.  His smile went all the way to his eyes and to his soul.  I could tell that he wasn’t faking it or putting on a front.  So, that gave me peace that he wasn’t crushed over his situation.  And if he wasn’t crushed, I wasn’t going to mourn the loss for him.

For the rest of the week, I looked for a chance to talk to Isai.  To see how he had coped with the death of his dreams.  He was so popular and outgoing and surrounded by people that I had trouble getting to him.  But finally on Friday at the end of our short lunch break, I saw him sitting with only the missionary’s son.

I didn’t know how if he would appreciate me putting my nose in his business, so I was a bit timid.  "Hey, Cheesy, I heard about your shoulder.  About how you hurt it and the doctors said you couldn’t play baseball anymore…" 

I kind of trailed off.  I didn’t know where to go from there…  How to ask my question…  But he picked up where I stopped.

"Sarita, Jesus heal my shoulder.  I work hard.  He heal my shoulder.  I can play again."  He touched his shoulder and smiled, then went back to eating.

"You can play?"

He looked up at me and smiled.  "Yes.  I can play.  I work hard.  Jesus heal me.  I can play."  He turned back to his chicken and rice, and then he turned back around to face me with a serious look.  "But I don’t know if I going to play.  I think I become pastor for my people."

"You want to preach, Cheesy?"

His smile got huge again.  "YES!  I LOVE to preach!" 

This time when he turned back to his chicken and rice, I let him.  A growing boy needs to eat.  Especially if he’s gonna have the energy to preach.

Sarah M. Salter

www.sarahsalter.com

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