Back in September I wrote a response
paper venting my frustration with the athletes during spirit week. I recall
talking with my best friend and being extremely angry because they had the
privilege of being able to play sports and yet they were whining about a hard
practice and the calls the ref made and on and on and on it went. I was
honestly hurt because here they were living my dream, one I was unfairly robbed
of, and they were being so ungrateful about it. I looked at Erica and mumbled
just loud enough for them to hear “What I wouldn’t give to be able to *****
about a rough practice or a dumb call!”
Well here it is June of my senior
year. I have been out of the game since seventh grade soccer season and I have
never longed to play as much as I did this year. I cant stop thanking God for
giving me back the ability to play and not be in pain but there was still
something missing. I still had no one to play with and no ball to kick around.
Great! I feel good enough to play but how am I supposed to play alone with no
ball? Well as awesome as my God is he answered me rather quickly on the
Wednesday night I asked the all too obvious question.
At
seven thirty or so there was a knock on the door. I was home alone chilling in
my boxers. I just about hit the ceiling when the dogs went off. After taking a
moment to collect my thoughts I walked, or rather stumbled over the still
barking hound/lab mix, to the door to find a returning something she had
borrowed. I walked down the ramp and before I had made it to the bottom another
fried that lives across the street from me chirped in. “Wanna play?” I couldn’t
believe it 20 minutes earlier I was fuming because I was alone with no ball. Now
I was standing barefoot in boxers in the middle of the street and she was
asking me to play a game of two on two soccer! All I managed was a blunt “What
do you think?” Of course I was going to play and I did!
We
played for two hours until the sun was going down. Kay and I won our game and I
have the trophy to show for it. I never imagined I would be proud to show one
off. Never in a million years would I have guessed that something so simple
would mean so much. It’s shaped like a perfect soccer ball, hexagons and all,
just inside my left knee. A big, ugly, beautifully gross looking, blue and
purple bruise. It sounds so strange but
that bruise is the symbol of a new start for me, of a life actually worth
living. One where I can wake up in the morning and say I think I’m going to go
for a run before breakfast, a life that I always wanted to have but never
thought I cold have. God healed my body. Now I have begun to heal my mind. I
wake up everyday smiling now because I know I am going to be able to do what I
love to do and that I am once again the person I want to be. Mentally I was
always a good person but it’s a whole lot easier to be me when I can actually
do what I enjoy without the fear of crippling pain afterward. All of that
wrapped up in a oddly shaped blue and purple bruise. So weird but yet so very
true!
