"Reminiscence"
What do you want to be when you grow up? We've all been asked this question a
million times. Some of us know exactly how to answer; others, like me, change our
response almost every other week. Now that I am in High School and nearing the big
decision of college, this question suddenly holds more weight to it. The answer will
affect the rest our lives, which is overwhelming when you take a second to think
about it. These past few years have really informed and helped me decide where I
want to aim for. Although I am not completely sold on this answer and I think I have
a pretty good idea.
It all started in the winter of seventh grade on a brisk Sunday afternoon involving
a steep cement hill, a pink razor scooter, and my terrible driving skills. Within the
week I had two itchy, scratchy, purple and green casts on both my wrists. I
remember being disappointed at not being able to play basketball but having two
broken wrists did have some benefits. I got all my history and science notes printed
off for me, my dad had to write down math problems, and during computer, because
typing was a struggle, I got to eat and do homework. Those six weeks went by
quickly and before I knew it I was back on the basketball court and doing math
homework. The snow melted, and the grass started to fade from brown to green
announcing the beginning of spring, meaning soccer season. It was probably only
three weeks in to the season, when I got pushed by a more aggressive eighth grade
girl, and landed directly on my left elbow. It took a day or so to finally get it xMrayed
and, contrary to our preliminary thinking, the xMray showed no prominent signs of a
break. We went home relieved, only to get called that night by the specialist
confirming that there actually was a small fracture right below my elbow bone. The
next day I was in a bright orange cast up to my shoulder. Thankfully I only had to
endure that torture for four weeks, getting it removed a day before the annual
middle school Lagoon trip.
By the grace of God I remained injury free, except for the minor ankle sprain fall
of freshman year, until this past summer. The spring before some girls in my class
had formed a club volleyball team to get extra practice and compete in a few
tournaments and camps. Our season had gone well, and to close it out we headed
down to Dixie State University in St. George, Utah, to compete in a week long team
camp the first week of July. We arrived that Monday and in a whirl wind of sports,
swimming, and sunburns Thursday was upon us. We were in our third match of the
day, in the second set losing by only a couple points when I went up to block a
middle hit, and in the next instance I was on the ground with shooting pains going
through my right ankle. I gimped over to the bench, quickly putting it on some ice to
control the swelling, and tried to make a brave face for my team. I knew that it was
not just an ordinary sprain so I begged my mom, who was conveniently our coach,
to get it xMrayed. We traveled the short distance to the InstaMCare and sure enough
our worst fear came true, the xMray showed a small fracture on the fibula bone. I was
put in a large black boot and crutches and ordered to be completely non weight
bearing until I could see the specialist back in Salt Lake. The afternoon faded into
night and we had to make yet another trip to the hospital. Courtney had gotten a
severe concussion by falling off a table while dancing in an Ice Cream shop. Quite
humorous when we think back to it, but in the moment we weren't the least bit
chipper. Our team, whittled down to five, ended up winning first in our pool against
huge odds the next day. I remember tears trickling down my face as our team finally
captured the game winning point, not knowing why, but that it was okay. The team
headed back to Salt Lake as Rachel, my mom, and I continued on to California to
spend time with family. That trip is an entire other essay but I will tell you that it is
NOT fun to spend the day on the beach in a sand wheelchair with a broken ankle.
That brings you up to date on the journey of my injuries but don't worry I didn't tell
you all this without a good reason.
I don't believe in coincidences, I really don't, I think God places everything in a
certain place at a certain time, every single moment of our lives. Without modern
medicines and brilliant doctors and specialists I know my situation may have turned
out differently. That I think is what God has called me towards, to help kids, like me,
who get hurt or sick to heal both physically and emotionally. I am only fifteen and
college is still two years way, but if you never chase your dreams you will never
catch them.
