The Concrete Basketball Court

Every Saturday in the Littlefield household from the ages of 5 to 15 seemed to be the same. 
Carpenters music would blare from the speakers of the vinyl record console in the living room. I didn’t care for their music- I found it to be depressing. 
Nevertheless- I had every word of every song memorized and I sang aloud with the rest of my sisters and Mom as we did our Saturday chores. 

One of the chores, in rotation, was that three of us would be assigned each week to make a large batch of 5 loaves of bread. 
We’d push chairs up against the kitchen cabinets to be tall enough to knead downward over our industrial-sized metal bowls. 
Most weeks that job was simply part of my chores. 
Mom had taught each of us the proper techniques. 
In bread making, our final task was to shape each loaf before placing it in the pan. 
We were taught to roll the dough into a large rectangle, begin with one shorter side, and tightly roll the loaf. We tucked each end under working to make sure the loaf was even and uniform in size. 
We would then place it in its metal baking dish and call Mom into the kitchen to sign off on our loaves before she took the baton and finished the baking process. 

She enforced the importance of the SHAPE. 
The shape would indicate how well the bread would bake and how thus the resulting finished product. The shape would determine whether the bread would have air bubbles baked throughout it making it difficult to serve as sandwich bread. This bread fed our large family. Sandwiches were packed every day for school. When a loaf wasn’t rolled and shaped correctly, it would result in peanut butter or honey seeping through creating difficulty at the lunch table. 

Shape absolutely determined the outcome. 

I recently heard the question-
What one decision has most shaped my life?

When I heard this question, 
I immediately saw the scene play out again in my mind. I was 17…
I had stopped at the concrete basketball court where I had spent many summer nights the previous year playing in a non-high school-sanctioned basketball league. 
I played my best basketball there. 
It was just a group of girls from school- 
No coaches, no fans, and no parents to watch. 
Just me, the ball, and my favorite teammates. 

It was there that I became my best version of a basketball player. I played with my heart, for the love of the game. 
It was on this upward trajectory that I entered my senior season. 
It wasn’t long before the letters began arriving at the house. At first, they seemed special so I kept the first few. Then they arrived at a more rapid pace. I deemed them ordinary and just tossed them. 
I thought everyone got them…
I didn’t know or understand any level of their significance until a college coach followed her letter with a phone call. 
Coach called every week for the rest of my senior basketball season. 
We talked about basketball and life. I looked forward to her calls. I felt seen and heard. 
She asked me to come play for her. 
Other offers were at more prestigious colleges with better programs and larger fan bases. 
But I liked her and so I agreed to come to play ball for her. 

A few months later, I was at church. After class, I was asked to come into a room where my parents and leaders expressed concern for my college decision. 
I left that meeting angry- very angry and drove straight to that concrete basketball court. 

I was alone that Sunday afternoon. 
I talked with God. 
I told him I didn’t need the support of my parents or anyone from
Church. 
I told Him I knew I could play and that all I needed was His vote and His blessing on my decision. 
I waited.

Until I knew-

I needed to pivot. 

With complete peace, surety, and sadness, I called Coach when I got home. 
I don’t understand all of the reasons or perhaps any of them as to why playing basketball for Allegheny College wasn’t the best course for me. 
I simply had exact knowledge from God himself that it wasn’t. 
I didn’t have a strong testimony of Christ, modern-day prophets or their revelations. 

I only had God. 

And it was enough. 
Since then- I’ve searched for a greater understanding of my Savior, his personal role, and the accompanying blessings He can bring to my life. 
I’ve searched for understanding with faith in modern-day prophets and their place in religion. 
Testimonies of such have been deepened and understandings have received enlightenment as I prayed to the God I know for answers. 

The defining moment to pivot-
To trust God-
And then to lean into the knowledge of Him proved important. 
My next few years were not filled with baskets or championships but instead- hard days, hungry days, and more questions than answers. 

It was then, and continues to be today, the decision that shaped the resulting trajectory of my life-
The ability, belief, and knowledge to talk with God. 
To tell Him, to ask Him, and to listen to Him…

Peace and joy now accompany me as I journey. Peace that is made available through Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 
I understand Him. And I understand Them. I also better understood their uncompromising love for me. 

So as I look back on my memories of the scene at the concrete basketball court- I’m grateful. 
No regrets on a life that became one of searching to better understand God-
His purposes, and my purpose with Him. 

-JC

Chocolate Cream Pie

1 pre-packaged or homemade 9″ Oreo crust
___
12 oz. softened cream cheese
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup soft butter
12 oz. homemade whipped cream or Cool Whip

Melt chocolate chips and still until smooth. Set aside to cool. Beat together cream cheese, sugar, and butter until creamy. Fold in chocolate. Fold in whipping cream or Cool Whip. Spoon chocolate cream mixture into Oreo crust. Chill thoroughly for 6 hours or a few hours in the freezer. Garnish with chocolate glaze, syrup or hot fudge sauce as desired.
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