*Recently, we had to write a story to enter into the fair in my town for a writing competition. I haven't been able to write lately and I hope to be able to sit down and write about watching my first team practice soon. Until then, here's a brief narrative.
It was July 7th in a
Wendy’s when my world came crashing down.
I will always remember that day.
I will always remember that look on my dad’s face and how his voice
quivered when he said the two dreadful words, “It’s torn.”
I had never been so angry at
God. I did not understand why I had to
be the one to sustain a major injury. I
was not the girl who thinks she is better than everyone in school. I was not the girl who drinks and smokes
every weekend. I was the athlete who is
humble and goes to church, so why did I have to tear my ACL? Why did I have to be the one to sit out for
six months? Why did I have to be the subject of pain?
After my family and I found out I
had a torn ACL and meniscus, I had one week to prepare for surgery. During that week, I tried to push all of my
thoughts of anger and fear out of my head.
That whole week, I tried to pray for a safe surgery and a speedy
recovery, but I felt disconnected. I
felt like God was not listening to me. I
almost thought he just did not care. The
night before my surgery was when I let all of my emotions spill out of the
little box I had been hiding them inside.
I wept and wept until it was time for my parents and me to leave for the
hospital.
Before I went in for surgery, my
pastor came to pray with me. I might
sound like I had, but I truly had not given up on God. I was just full of rage with no one to blame. The pastor, my parents, and I all prayed for
a safe surgery and for my anesthesia to work correctly. Making bargains with God is not the best
thing to do, but I was desperate. I
prayed to Him and said that if everything went well, I would tell my story to
others.
This would be a great ending to a
sweet story, but unfortunately, my anger did not stop after I came out of
surgery. For about a week after surgery,
I was indifferent. I was thankful that
my surgery went well and that my meniscus, after a closer look, was not
torn. One night after another day of
depending on my parents to do everything for me, I started to cry. At this point, I was still sleeping with my
mom because I could not get out of bed easily.
My mom started to cry with me.
She kept telling me that there was a reason that this happened to
me. Honestly, I could see no reason why
I should not be able to play the sport that I loved for six months. What could possibly be the reason for that?
Two months later, on September
sixteenth, I can finally say that I know the reason I tor my ACL. After an ACL reconstruction surgery, a
patient has to attend physical therapy for six months. Once I went to about my fifteenth therapy
session, I knew physical therapy was my calling. During this experience, I was led far away
from God. After finding my way back, I
am now a stronger Christian than before.
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