Playing Hurt: The First Half

By Jason Crooks

Joshua Meyer is like many healthy 12-year old boys. Hes vibrant, fun, full of confidencebutunlike the average boy, hes unusually gifted. His talents show up on the football field, with his love of creative writing, in a knack for business, and with his love and sensitivity to family and friends.

However, when Meyers best friend, Travis Smith, is injured during a backyard football game Joshua is forced for the first time to see a harsh side of life.

But the difficulties dont stop there; Travis injury is just the beginning of struggles. What is so important about this boys destiny that the universe seems to be trying to take him, his home, and even his hope apart, bit by bit? And will his family survive the attacks? Will he?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Oct 16, 2017
• ISBN: 9781973601685

Jason Crooks

Jason Crooks won two Iowa High School State Wrestling titles, was a 1995 Asics Tiger High School All-American, and was a two-time all-state football player at Fort Madison (IA) High School. Crooks was invited to walk-on to the University of Iowa football program in the fall of 1995. He rose from sixth to second-team linebacker on the depth charts in one year, and saw playing time during the 1996 season, including the Hawkeyes 27-0 shutout of Texas Tech in the 1996 Alamo Bowl. Crooks has done sportswriting for The Jamestown Sun, the Fort Madison Daily Democrat, and “Iowa’s Oldest Newspaper,” The Hawk Eye. He lives and works in Tennessee, with his wife and four children.

Book preview

Romans 8:28-29

PROLOGUE

It was the pre-eternity. And the souls of the elect, millions upon millions of them, were brought together on heaven’s floor. At first, the souls knew very little, but when truth was spoken, they immediately understood … and believed.

But knowledge wouldn’t yet matter, for, after the Selection, all would forget all.

The Creator’s Chief Assistant, otherwise known as the Helper – who was endowed with the very same nature, mind, and purpose as the Creator, spoke:

And next We are giving this life. You will be born into a wealthy family in the country of America. You will be given gifts of purpose, charm, and laughter. Many people will seek after you. In addition, you will have great athletic talent. You will love your wife, who will be beautiful. And, if you will follow God’s will for your life, you will be given skill to handle money … and money will continue to be added unto you.

The Helper paused, knowing to let his words have their effect. Then, with a rousing voice, He spoke again:

Future servants of the King of Kings, who will volunteer for this life?!

The Helper had barely finished declaring his question when hundreds of thousands of souls began moving, shifting, and lifting.

The golden floor of heaven was fraught with activity.

Already knowing who He would select for the task, the Helper reached out his arms to quiet the throng.

"I see the great reaction to this future life. I’m glad so many of you like the idea of having good things to enjoy.

However, for this life, because of the spirit of competitiveness that will be in America, I must choose the soul who first volunteered for this task.

The Helper drew the chosen soul to Himself. The throng quieted.

The soul who chose and was chosen received something like a paper – a square, yellow, yet transparent scrap filled with all kinds of letters, instructions, numbers, and symbols. Too magnificent to read, too blinding to stare at, and too unintelligible to understand, the soul simply turned the sheet over, and, upon the point of the Helper, flew far away from the throng.

The Helper then turned His gaze back to the crowd: Not all of you will stay here after your earth’s journey is selected. We have already decided this. It is for your own good. The Helper smiled. There will be no bragging in heaven.

The souls with a keen sense of humor laughed and giggled.

The Helper continued to smile as He reached for the next life pattern. As He looked at the yellow, transparent paper, his face grew serious. Looking concerned, He studied the sheet for a few more moments, and then turned. He vanished. The throng had seen Him do this only a few times before.

He returned. His face shown with even more magnificence than before. He spoke:

"You also will live in America. But your story will be much different than the one just chosen.

Besides having a gift and desire to help others, you will be given gifts of intellect, writing, discernment, and creativity. However, many of your teachers will not be able to instruct you after a certain point. You will need to develop some of these skills on your own time, for you will need to use them your entire life.

The Helper looked up, already knowing the one He was speaking to: I will help you with that.

This new revelation excited the souls in attendance. Many looked to be willing candidates.

The Helper then looked down slowly and then slowly up again. "Child, your life on earth will be difficult. You will love athletic competition, and in your youth you will excel at sports. However, your parents will both die when you are young, and you also will be injured.

You will see even more tragedies than this, and your pain in life will increase. Much of this pain will not be easily recognized. Only by the strength and grace given to you by God will you survive.

The souls on the floor of heaven now kept still. Besides the muffled singing of angels in another room, the whole glorious temple was silent. Not a soul moved. Most tried to avoid the gaze of the Helper, as if doing so would encourage Him to not select them.

But the Helper already knew who would choose, and, lifting His gaze over hundreds and hundreds of thousands of rows of souls, a tender smile grew on His face.

Far in the back, a decision.

A soul arose.

"Thank you, son, for your courage. Now, let me tell you the purpose of your life. You will suffer, but you will not perish – as is written, not even a hair of your head. Your sorrow, your sorrow will engender courage and strength of will, and, when the time is right, this all will couple with your faith, fledgling as it will be, to bring about something wonderful …

… Something wonderful, in a time when the world will be filled with doubt about God, yet wanting, hoping, even begging to believe. Then, you will see …but now you must forget.

The soul nodded.

The Helper smiled.

ONE

J OSHUA MEYER WOKE UP TANGLED in a cocoon of damp sheets. He quickly freed himself and then grasped his soaked shirt with both hands. His wet hair felt matted to his forehead. After rubbing sleep from his eyes, he sat up and saw his alarm clock’s bold-red statement.

3:51 A.M.

He groaned as he let his chin fall to his chest.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his right leg. He stumbled out of his bed, afraid, and groped the bedroom wall in order to turn find the light switch.

Oww, Joshua groaned, as he felt pain again – this time from his left leg.

Still finding his way to the light switch, Joshua accidentally jammed his ribs into the hard corner of his dresser. He grimaced but held himself back from shouting – parents slept in the next room over.

Immediately, he knew he’d scraped his skin hard enough to cause a large bruise; however, it would be no bigger than any bruise he suffered the night before during a backyard game of football with his friends.

His left knee was beginning to feel far worse than his ribs. The pain increased.

Wearing only a pair of black shorts, Joshua began to feel his throbbing leg. First, he lightly touched at the outside of his calf.

No blood.

Had he broken his leg the night before and just not known? He shook his head – no, he wasn’t that tough.

Joshua brought both hands down to his knee area, and began to lightly search over his skin. After all, in Texas, you never knew what kind of animal might be biting.

His hand stopped as he found a large bump on the inside of the kneecap. He pushed on the bump just a little … and immediately wished he hadn’t.

The sting sent a shock through his body, up into his thigh and even into his chest. His heart, stressed from the pain, skipped a beat.

It was only a precursor of what came next.

As a bolt, pain shot through his leg, starting with what felt like a bite at the bottom of his foot, and then increasing its intensity all the way up through his hip, into his left shoulder and the side of his neck. Joshua tried to shout but nothing came out. He toppled to the floor.

For a moment, he felt paralyzed. He tried to move, but his joints were stuck. Then, slowly, his muscles uncoiled.

What in the world?!

He wanted to cry … only he didn’t know what he’d be crying about. As bad as the pain hurt, Joshua’s fear felt worse.

As soon as he was able, he shot up from the floor, found the light switch and flicked it on. As light filled the room in a millisecond, so did his lungs fill for the first time in what seemed like minutes.

He leaned back, ran his hands through his sweaty hair, and breathed a few more times before beginning to frantically look around the room.

The pain had stopped throttling through his knee, but the entire 60-second experience still felt awful.

Who’s in here? What’s going on?!

Am I still asleep?

He cleared his throat and spoke a few words – football, baseball, football, baseball, baseball – then pinched his arm, and pulled on a few hairs. Not that the scrappy 12-year old needed any more pain – but he just wanted to make sure he was fully awake.

He looked down at his knee. Had he been stung? Was it a spider? A scorpion?

A snake?

He felt it again, back on the same spot where he’d just had the pain.

Nothing.

No pain. Not even a bump. His knee now felt fine.

Joshua paced around the room, looked in the closet twice, searched under the bed, and ripped off his covers – checking between them as he did.

No fiery dirt demons showed themselves.

He stood, shook his head, and then simply stared at his yellow bedroom wall: Sometimes the life of a 12-year old just didn’t make sense.

As he propped two pillows where he would lay his head, he vowed to keep the lights on all night long. And he left the pile of sheets stay on the floor – just in case he’d somehow missed the motherload.

He sat on his bed and pulled his left leg up to feel around the kneecap again.

For some reason, as he flipped through a worn-out copy of Sports Illustrated – breathing in through his nose, out through his mouth– the face of his best friend, Travis Smith,