Though my gross lie is believable it’s obvious the deceit doesn’t fool her.

I listen, hoping my instincts will kick in, but all that is heard are the imagined judgments whispering from the crowd.

No home, no stability, no belonging, a normal life for a third culture kid.

Silence returns a second time as the speaker and students are abruptly whisked away and my soul feels again the gentle whisper to execute.

Splash. A flawless arc draws my gaze away from the rim to glance at my surroundings.

Being chased by my dad in a South German field, my feet gave way and I toppled into the angry red coals of a dying bonfire.

The car noticed my fear starting to build as I began restlessly shifting gears back and forth behind unhurried cars.

I was facing a forked road. Continue my walk with Jesus, or go on with the old. I could not do both.

"Close your eyes, put it in the basket, hand it over to Him."

I finally told Him that, this, I could not do.

When the song ended I said, “Okay Lord,” picked up my backpack, and was about to get up when...

As the words left my mouth I immediately wondered why I said it...

...my eyes started to wander and I looked at the waves crashing around me and the water underneath my feet.

As I quickly learned how God works, my former doubt in prayer became fear of half-hearted requests.

God slapped me in the face. I had asked him to reveal what the problem was and he did.

It wasn’t until the car left and I kept walking that I realized. God was in the car...

As I hit the eighth I was in tears; my God was kneeling down to the level of basketball to show me His love for me.