by Chris Fabry
Jamie shook her head, her heart breaking.
“Look. I know you have to find your own way. But even if the Devalon thing worked out, I don’t think you’d have liked it over there. Let me finish the teaching you need. I can help you get where you want to go.”
“Dad, we just don’t click.”
“We clicked out there yesterday. And when you spotted for me at Daytona, we had some good chemistry—don’t you think?”
Jamie picked a few more blades of grass and tossed them in the water.
“You have the skills to be one of the best. You have the drive and the competitive edge a lot of people just don’t have. When you were two, you couldn’t stand losing to me at Candy Land. Remember that?”
“You always got Queen Frostine,” she said.
“But you also have compassion,” he continued. “You are exactly the type of person this sport is looking for. You’re a good role model. You race clean, yet you can be aggressive. A little too aggressive at times, but you’ll learn. I couldn’t be more proud of how you acted after that race yesterday. You could have gotten into it with Devalon and those goons, but you walked away.”
“Tim pushed me away. If it hadn’t been for him, I probably would have taken the track bar to Devalon.”
Her dad smiled. “I want to help you. Let’s get a plan together and make it happen. With Indy coming up this weekend and a win under my belt, who knows? I might even make the Chase.”
“Can that happen? I mean, statistically it can, but—”
“Don’t count the old man out yet,” he said. “I still have some fight. I’d love for you to be there this weekend.”
“I’m supposed to go to this camp for little sick kids tomorrow with Cassie,” Jamie said. “It lasts all week.”
“I’m supposed to be their featured driver this week,” he said. “I’ll get you a flight on Saturday or even Sunday morning if you’ll come.”
“Okay.”
A fish surfaced and ate a bug on the water. The sun rose behind them through the trees, red and angry. The light from it made the clouds turn purple and orange. Looking at the scene, Jamie said, “I thought God was going to let me win that race. I thought that’s what he wanted for my life. I can’t tell you how much it hurt.”
Her dad just sat there and stared at the water. Then he crossed his legs and scooted closer. “Life is a process of becoming who you are and not who you’re not. Does that make sense?”
“Seems kind of obvious.”
“Well, it’s not, really. A lot of people never learn it. With each choice you make, you choose who you are and who you aren’t. And each experience shapes who you’re becoming.”
Jamie threw some more grass.
“My dad quit school in the 10th grade to go work on cars with his dad. He made a choice about who he was going to be. Now, I wouldn’t agree with that choice today—I wouldn’t want anyone to quit school for any reason—but that’s what he did. In my life, I choose every day who I’m going to be with all those drivers out there. They want me to have some beers with them or go to bad places. I want to be liked by those guys like kids in high school want to be liked by their peers. But I have to make a choice. Who am I going to be?”
“They make fun of you. They call you a goody-goody or a teetotaler.”
“I know,” her dad said. “And how I react to that is a choice I’m making of who I’m going to be too. I used to want to fit in so badly that I’d go drinking with those guys just so they wouldn’t tease me. Then I realized I was letting them decide who I was going to be.”
“What happened?”
“They still make fun of me. But let something happen in their lives—something bad like their wife leaves them or a child gets sick or any of a hundred things—and who do you think is the first person they come to?”
“You?”
He nodded. “I can’t tell you how many times it’s happened. They want to know what somebody like me thinks because their friends are out chasing some kind of happiness they’ll never find. They see me as a guy who’s stable and doesn’t have to have all that stuff to make him happy.”
Jamie and her dad had rarely talked like this. She’d seen how he lived his life, but she’d never heard his reasoning. It always seemed like he was just a guy who didn’t want to have fun. Now it sounded like he was the one who had found what he was looking for and didn’t have to chase something that would slip through his fingers.
“God throws stuff at you every day,” he continued. “Either that or he allows things to happen. Choices to make—little things like what to look at or not look at, what to think about or not think about. So many people think that being a Christian is walking an aisle or saying a prayer or being baptized. It’s true that you have to respond to God’s invitation. You have to accept the gift he’s offering. Once you do that, the deal is sealed. God doesn’t give you something and then take it back. Can you imagine a parent giving their kid a gift on Christmas, then because they spilled their milk, taking it away from them?”
“I remember when you threatened to take that Barbie away from me if I didn’t take out the trash.”
Her dad smiled from ear to ear. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
“Bad choice you made, huh?”
“My point is that becoming a Christian is a once-in-a-lifetime deal. You ask God to forgive you and tell him you’re sorry for all the bad stuff you’ve done, and if you really mean it down deep and you’re not playing games, God takes you seriously and he comes in. Becoming a Christian is his deal. He’s the one who works in your heart to draw you to himself. But here’s the tricky part. Being a Christian is different. The Christian life is made up of all the choices you make from that day on. You can choose to ignore God if you want. You can choose your own way. But if that decision was real back there when you asked him to come in and take control, you won’t do that for long. You’ll want God back on the throne where he deserves to be.”
“So choosing God and letting him take over doesn’t mean I’m going to win.”
“Nope. Besides, if you won every time, it wouldn’t be special. Losing makes the winning even better.”
“So he’s testing me, in a sense. With this loss, I mean.”
“Doesn’t just happen on the track. I’ll bet there were some kids who disobeyed the rules back at the school. Tried to sneak out and go to a party when they knew they’d get in trouble.”
“I was invited to a couple of those parties.”
“There you go. And how did you decide?”
“I didn’t go. I told them I didn’t want to lose my spot—”
“No, not what did you decide. How did you decide?”
Jamie thought about the question. “I guess I just weighed whether going out with them was worth getting kicked out of school.”
Her dad nodded. “That’s a mature thought. Did it ever enter your mind what God thought about it?”
“Honest?” Jamie said.
“Yeah, shoot straight.”
Jamie took a breath. “I’m not even sure if I believe like you. I mean, I know Jesus died for me and that he was God and all the stuff I’ve learned in Sunday school since I was little.” She could feel some emotion in her voice and a tremble in her chin. “But I don’t think I can be like you and Mom. And Cassie. She’s like a little angel that prays every second and always thinks about other people.”
“I’ll admit, Cassie is a little hard to live up to. But you don’t have to compare yourself with her. Don’t you see? That’s the same kind of peer pressure only in reverse.”
“I don’t get it.”
“God wants to come into your life and forgive you and make you a new person. But the person he wants to make you is not Cassie. He wants to make you the best Jamie you can be. The Jamie he created you to be.”
“But won’t I have to go off and become some missionary to people who’ve never seen a NASCAR race?”
“You mean like New York City?” her da
d said, laughing.
She chuckled, but then the dam broke and she started to cry. Her dad hugged her tight, and she didn’t want him to let go. When she was 12 or 13, he stopped hugging her for some reason, and then he went to some conference and when he came back, he hugged her every day and she got sick of it. Now it felt good just to be in his arms and let go of her emotions.
“Jamie, I know God is doing something in your heart. I can tell it. Your mom can tell it. I think he’s preparing you for something really big. And the choices you make each day help bring you closer to who you really are. Who he really wants you to become.”
“But I don’t even know if I’m really a Christian.”
“Do you want to follow Jesus with all your heart?” he said softly. “Do you want to choose him and not your own way?”
“Yeah.”
Her dad let go and leaned down a little to look her in the eye. “Do you want him to strap into the driver’s seat and drive? Jamie, you’ve been driving the car of your life a long time. Climb out and let him take over.”
Jamie nodded, and through her tears she said, “That’s what I want.”
At the edge of the lake, with the water rippling from a fishing boat that passed a few hundred yards away, they prayed together. Though Jamie still felt the sting of the loss the day before, her heart soared. And she couldn’t wait to talk with Cassie.
Someone yelled for her, and the two of them stood. Kellen came running across the field, holding up his mom’s cell phone. He tossed it to her, out of breath.
“Who is it?”
“Some guy . . . Watkins, I think . . . from the driving school . . .”
Chapter 32
Telling Cassie
JAMIE MET CASSIE in the parking lot of Camp Left Turn the next morning. Cassie was excited and hugged her. “You said you had news for me?”
Jamie nodded. “The guy who ran the driving school called yesterday and said he wanted to meet me today. I told him I’d be here.”
“What’s it about?”
“Maybe an honorable mention or something,” Jamie said. “I’m not holding my breath.”
“Well, I think you handled it really well. My dad was in the stands, and he said he hadn’t seen anything so heartbreaking since the Earnhardt blown tire at Daytona.”
“He put that tire up on the wall in the garage to remind him how close they came.”
“You should do the same thing with that engine,” Cassie said, then shook her head. “It’s still probably pretty raw for you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I think I have a better perspective on it now. Because of what happened yesterday.”
“What do you mean?”
Jamie told Cassie about her talk with her dad and what she’d decided about her life. “I want to do whatever God wants me to do. If that means racing, I’m all in. If it means following you to some foreign country to carry your Bibles, I’ll do that too. Except I want to drive.”
Tears filled Cassie’s eyes. “You don’t know how long I’ve prayed for this. Not that I think you’re some heathen or anything. I could just tell how much you were struggling through school and in church. It seemed like you really wanted to know God, but something was holding you back.”
“I think you’re right. I was scared that I had to be just like you.”
Cassie squinted. “Me? Why would you be scared of that?”
Jamie folded her arms. “You know. You’re so . . . faithful and holy and—”
Cassie held up a hand. “Hang on. You have no idea. I let God down all the time.”
“Right, like you had an extra scoop of ice cream when you were six.”
“No, I’ve done some bad things.”
“Name one.”
“Well, being jealous of you.”
“Me?”
“You’ve got all the driving talent in the world. You can take an engine apart and put it back together faster than my dad. And you’re the dream date of every boy at Velocity High.”
Jamie rolled her eyes and chuckled. “I guess we always want to be something we’re not—when what we are is just fine.”
Cassie hugged her again. “Oh, I almost forgot. I want you to meet someone. Come on.”
As Jamie followed, Cassie explained about the campers and how they handled their diabetes. “Most of the kids here can give themselves their own shots, but some of the young ones need help and monitoring.”
“Must be hard having to take shots every day. I wouldn’t want to take even one.”
Jamie followed Cassie to the dining area shaped like a race car. In fact, just about every building in the place was shaped like a race car. A blonde girl with blue eyes was eating, swinging her legs under the table. She had a cute smile and a #14 hat on.
“This is Jenna,” Cassie said, sitting down across from her. “And, Jenna, this is the girl I was telling you about. Jamie—”
“You’re Jamie Maxwell?” Jenna said.
Jamie smiled. “I’ll bet you know my dad.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open, and her fork fell onto her corn dog and green beans. She was drinking a diet soda. “I can’t believe I’m actually meeting the daughter of Dale Maxwell. I saw your dad in person at Daytona. I mean, I almost saw him. And you were spotting for him, weren’t you?”
Jamie couldn’t believe the girl knew so much. “Yeah. But why didn’t you get to see him race?”
“I’d saved up my money and everything, but that’s when I got sick. I have diabetes.” Jenna pronounced it die-beetees. “They had to take me from the track straight to a hospital, and they stuck needles in me to give me fluids and stuff. Now I have to take more shots.”
Jamie looked around and noticed Cassie had left them alone. “Does it hurt?” she said.
“Sometimes,” Jenna said, some mustard covering her top lip. “But if I don’t have my insulin, I feel really bad, so a little stick is a lot better than feeling bad all over.”
“Sounds like you know your stuff. What’s that black bag?”
“Oh, that’s to take my blood sugar. I have to stick one of my fingers and see what the level is to make sure it’s not too high or too low.”
“How old are you?”
“I’ll be nine in June,” she said.
“You mean, next year?”
“Yeah, but I like to say it that way because it makes me feel older, you know?”
Jamie laughed. “What’s the best thing about this place?”
Jenna looked up at the ceiling like she was trying to figure out some math problem or the correct airflow for a Lexus. “Well, I like the pool and the slide a lot, and the climbing wall was fun. Oh, and the counselors are really great. Cassie’s my favorite, but maybe you’ll be my favorite after today. But . . . probably the best thing is that I don’t feel so all alone.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, at my school, I have to go down to the office and get a shot just before lunch. My mom comes and gives it to me. I feel kind of weird there because I’m the only one in my class who has die-beetees.”
Jamie nodded. “I’ve felt kind of alone like that before too.”
“But here,” Jenna continued, “everybody is just like everybody else. We all have die-beetees, so nobody gets taken to the office for a special shot. We all go.”
Jamie smiled. The two talked for a while, and then she pulled out her cell phone and dialed. “Dad? There’s somebody here who wants to talk with you.”
Chapter 33
Camp Left Turn
TIM RODE ALONG with the Maxwells to Camp Left Turn.
Mrs. Maxwell said she was looking forward to coming here. “Dale’s been before and I came last year. Just the look on the kids’ faces when they see Dale or some of the other drivers is worth the trip.”
“I’m not sure I want to be around a bunch of sick kids,” Tim said. “What if it rubs off?”
Kellen laughed. “You can’t catch diabetes from somebody like a cold.”
“Yeah, but s
ome weeks the kids are really sick, right?” Tim said.
“None of the illnesses are contagious,” Mrs. Maxwell said. “You don’t have anything to worry about.”
As they made the hard left turn into the parking lot, Tim asked Dale what he was going to do.
“I usually just walk around and talk to the kids and watch them ride horses and swim. Then they get all the kids together in the main building, and I answer questions.”
“What are you going to say?”
Dale unlocked the doors. “That your life isn’t defined by your problems. You might have difficulties, and you may have caught some bad breaks, but you don’t have to let those hold you back. The kids who come here could let whatever illness they have stop them. They could become the little sick kid. But the truth is, they don’t have to be known as that. They don’t have to give up.”
“Most of the best home run hitters struck out a lot more than they homered,” Kellen said. “And if you race NASCAR, there are 42 losers and only one winner in each race.”
Tim watched as Dale was mobbed as soon as he walked through the gate. The kids ran to Dale like he had some kind of kid magnet and wouldn’t stop following. Some wanted autographs, some had questions, and some of them were too scared to do anything but stare. It wasn’t until Dale sat on a bench and got eye level with them that the timid ones approached.
“Do you think you have a chance for the Chase, Mr. Maxwell?” one boy said.
“I’m running well right now, but there are a bunch of drivers ahead of me. It’s hard to catch up because they’re all scoring points too. I’ll know more after this weekend in Indy.”
“Are there any drivers who are diabetic?” a boy said. “My mom said I couldn’t be a long-haul trucker or serve in the military, but what about NASCAR?”
“If there’s not a driver now, why don’t you become the first one?” Dale said.
The kid smiled so wide and shook Dale’s hand so hard that Tim couldn’t help smiling too.
Then Jamie walked up with a little girl. “Dad, this is Jenna. She came to Daytona to watch her very first race, and that was the day she got sick.”
