"Let's go." he called as he started his lap near the goal. All the way around the field, "One." Again, "Two." Again, "Three, four. It's time for stretching."
After we warmed our bodies we started passing the ball around. I had quit soccer at age 9 because I no longer loved the sport. My coach had kept the game from being fun, and I no longer wanted to play. I can't imagine a better way to start again. Alvin and I ran the length of the field passing the ball. As we approached the goal, he lofted the ball into the air just in front of the goal. "Shoot it," he called as the ball neared me. Pank! The ball flew just over the top right corner. "Not bad, now again." We dribbled and shot a few more times and Victor joined our game. Victor was a young man that looked like the plastic Under Armour models you see at Dick's, the one's that you see and think, "No human looks like that. Nobody has a body that perfect."
We passed in a triangle, juggled, attackrd the goal, switched positions. My kicks were strong, but lacked the consistency and accuracy that Alvin and Victor's kicks had. We played and sweat and ran and laughed until the field was full of players. As I grew tired and watched the other players kick and juggle and run, they broke into a song. They all came together in a circle praising Jesus and God for their lives and their blessings. They sang and sang, as Alvin pulled my into the circle. We thanked God for our ability to be here and to have the ability to wake up, and eat, and run, and play. The people I played with have so little when compared to Americans; many survive on 2 dollars a day, many share football cleats. But they have so much more than Americans in their hearts; they know that it is a blessing just to be here alive. I'm thankful to be here and share their thanks. I'm thankful to have rice and stew and water each day. I'm thankful to be alive
Pictures are up!
No comments:
Post a Comment