Last night was just supposed to be another youth baseball game—cheers in the stands, dust on the field, kids chasing dreams under the lights.

But something unexpected happened.

One of the boys’ grandfathers, sitting in the stands, suddenly had a serious health scare. In an instant, the game stopped being about runs and outs. Adults rushed to his side, calling for help, guiding paramedics, doing everything they could to keep him stable.

But while all of us were focused on the chaos, something beautiful was happening behind the scenes—something many of us didn’t even notice right away.

A group of little boys—10 years old, maybe younger—quietly stepped away from the dugout, took each other’s hands, and formed a circle. No one told them to do it. No coach, no parent. It came from them.

And they prayed.

They didn’t know every detail. They didn’t have the words for what was happening. But they understood something most grownups forget in the rush and fear of moments like this: when you don’t know what to do, you go to the One who does.

Their prayer wasn’t loud. It wasn’t polished.
But it was pure.
It was faith—the kind that doesn’t need answers to believe.

Like a child coming to a loving Father.
Scared. Unsure. But trusting.

These boys reminded us of something profound:
We may not always be in control.
We may not always have the answers.
But we’re never alone.

Thank you, boys.
For the courage to pray.
For the reminder to believe.
And for showing all of us what faith really looks like. 🙏⚾️❤️