Skip to main content

Just Another Story, Again

Aaaahhhhh!!” I screamed. School was over. My backyard was green and inviting, and the afternoon sun had still more warmth and radiance to offer. Still, nothing– no friend, thoughts of relaxation, or beauty– could have comforted me from the shock of pain coursing through what I once thought to be my left arm. “Dad! I think it’s broken!”
It was, but dad thought otherwise, at least at first. It began after school on a brilliant spring afternoon. I was fifteen, and my friend was my adversary. We set foot in that arena, that soccer field that was my back yard, surrounded by what seemed like thousands of roses on three sides, following our every move and applauding our every triumph. The glistening, blue sky seemed almost to call us into afternoon play, a call which none of the cotton ball clouds dotting the sky could ever have stopped us from hearing. Chris, my best friend at the time, suggested we kick the ball back and forth, and I was ready. I was soon to find out, however, that this would be no ordinary competition.
Things became serious. Tiring from the repeated back-and-forth play, Chris struck the ball too lightly across the pitch, where it landed equal distance between me and my foe. In the now-dimming light, we stared at one another, as though such stares alone could conquer. Then, suddenly, a jolt of energy surged through our fifteen-year old frames and sent us ripping through a windless day to meet the ball first.
I had to win. I could not let my challenger reach first what was rightfully mine. Equally skilled, each reached the ball at the same time; and equally brave, each kicked with all his might. Our moment slowed. Both missing the ball, we careened up toward a smiling sun, and then down toward a heartless earth. I reached it first, leaving what was likely a resounding thud of a sound. I could not see my friend, but I felt him. He landed on top of me, his full weight bearing down on my left arm. I screamed, and threw my friend feet away from me, rushing– with hot tears streaming down my face– toward my father, barbecuing hamburgers mere feet away.
“Let me see. I don’t think it’s broken, son.” The doctor, an older, kindly gentleman, felt otherwise. It was only a hairline fracture, but I would still need a cast. I chose blue.
Days later, I returned to school, parading my arm as though the cast I wore was a trophy, proving that I had conquered my opponent. To me, however, this opponent was not my best friend. Instead, my true adversary was the pain I had endured, a pain I had met and defeated. I strut about my school with an air of triumph. I was now a man. In fact, I had learned what was possibly one of the greatest lesson of my life on that brilliant afternoon. It was simply this: no one, no matter how great or small, is invincible. Though feeling forever strong at having endured something so painful, I truly discovered that day just how vulnerable we can sometimes be.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Pleasure

*Note: In the following post, I am heavily influenced by a pastor named Bob Shirock. Specifically, Shirock writes about Solomon's response to the pleasures he experienced in life in Ecclesiastes, and observes that we can enjoy pleasures in life if we accept them as God's gifts, and if we express our gratitude in their enjoyment. He cites Ecclesiastes 2:24-26 and 1 Timothy 4:1-5. I’ve noticed something about pleasure: the highs can be followed by lows. This sounds obvious, but what I mean is that times of joy and fun in life's pleasures are wonderful, and can lift your spirits for a time, but they can be followed by a disappointment that comes from the realization that they are short-lived and will not satisfy us in the long-term. I’m calling this a pleasure hangover. We gain happiness for a time, but see that this happiness is temporary. We therefore feel a subsequent low that leaves us still longing. It reminds me of a theme in the life of C.S. Lewis: sehnsucht , or a wist...
Post a Comment
Read more

Ghosts

Exercising at a gym seems to be pretty important in our culture, but it's kind of weird to see the social dynamics when you're there. Usually, if you're running an errand, you see others doing the same thing, going about their days and focusing on what's in front of them. The same thing happens at the gym, only everyone is relatively stationary. They don't really go anywhere, except from one machine or area to another. One might think this lends itself to lots of interaction between members, especially since they're all there for the same purpose, but it isn't true. Not only do people generally avoid talking to one another, but they also avoid even looking at one another. It is as though there is no one else there, even though there are dozens on any given day. Most people follow this unwritten rule, unless something in the environment-- say, two people wanting to use the same set of weights-- gives them common ground to interact, or unless they've alr...
2 comments
Read more

End of an Era

It was over two years ago that I joined an experiment that would last until last July, an experiment that would significantly change me and the eleven others involved. That experiment was the creation of a new church comprised of twelve members whose purpose was to serve the people of downtown Stockton. Most attractive to me about it was that half of our income would be used in some way outside the church, to benefit the local community or to aid in international assistance. In that span of time, we did in fact serve in ways we'd envisioned. One of our first events was a pizza and school supplies giveaway (coupled with games for the kids who came) toward the end of our first summer. Many of those who came seemed genuinely happy at this. Through that year, we also hosted an event called a "card me house party," wherein each person's ticket to the event was a gift card. Once inside, chips could be purchased to play card and other games, with the resulting collection g...
1 comment
Read more