Scars

I used to play on a rec league softball team. I played for several years, mostly as a first baseman. My fielding skills weren't that good, but I could catch almost anything thrown at me, given that it was at about chest level and not thrown too hard. I had good infielders who made me look a lot better than I actually was.

During one game about a year and a half ago, the shortstop threw me a ball in the dirt. It short-hopped right in front of me and nailed me right above the ankle. It hurt pretty bad, but I played through it. However, I noticed as the game progressed that my ankle was getting more and more swollen. By the time I got home, I had a rather large, and rather painful, lump above my ankle.

It stayed swollen for a couple weeks. The bruising spread down all around my ankle and foot. And it hurt like the dickens. I was on the DL for about two weeks.

As the weeks wore on, the swelling and most of the bruising went away. But there remained a small, darkened, sensitive spot where the leather of the ball hit my leg. Every morning when I dry myself after a shower, I feel a twinge of pain as I touch my left ankle. Or I have to quickly, but gently, remove my daughters from the spot when they decide I am their personal jungle gym. A year and a half later, I'm still feeling it.

Not long ago, I was driving to Ventura to take my wife's car in for servicing. As I drove a road I became very familiar with a few years ago, I felt another twinge of pain. See, driving that direction takes me right past the school I once taught at. I spent a horrible year there trying to teach unruly sophomores and trying to win the favor of unpleasable administrators. The nine months I spent there were probably the worst of my life. A very distressing, emotionally and spiritually taxing time of my life.

Time has helped heal the wounds. The swelling and bruising have gone down. But somewhere, in some unseen part of me, the scar remains. Like the brush of a towel, or the bump of a toddler's foot, against my ankle, a drive past that school brings back those feelings. Not nearly as intense, but just as real.

Leaving that job allowed me to take the one I currently have, the one I truly enjoy. I see God's providence in the circumstances. He did work the situation out for good, as His Word promises He would do. But the scar remains. A reminder of the worst job I ever had. But I wouldn't be where I am now if I hadn't gone there first. I think I am better for having gone through the experience, as awful as it was. I just wish taking that short-hop off the ankle improved my fielding skills as well.