Soccer is definitely my 12-year-old daughter Courtney’s game. People assume it’s because my husband, Dan, was a coach. That’s part of it, but it’s not the whole story.
At nine months old Courtney was already walking and kicking around the miniature soccer ball her father got her. So I was surprised to see her revert to crawling one Wednesday afternoon. “What are you doing, silly girl?” I said, standing her up on her feet. Courtney let out a cry. Dan checked her legs, ankles and feet. Nothing looked amiss.
But the next morning Courtney’s left foot was hugely swollen, her toes blue. We rushed her to the ER. X rays showed no signs of a sprain or fracture. The doctors couldn’t figure out what was wrong. They tried a bone scan on Friday. Problem was, it would be days before the results came in.
By Sunday Courtney’s foot was still discolored and puffy. I was a wreck. At church Dan requested healing prayers for our baby girl. People walked over to our seats and prayed for Courtney. That made me feel a little better.
A friend invited us over for lunch afterward. I put Courtney down in a playpen and went to the kitchen. When I came back out I couldn’t believe my eyes. Courtney was standing in the playpen on one foot—her left foot!
It looked completely normal. Nothing turned up on the bone scan. The doctors couldn’t explain how her foot was healed.
I can. Every time I see my daughter knock the ball all the way downfield, I marvel at her power. Her higher power, that is. You see, Courtney’s right-handed, but on the soccer field, she’s known for her mean left foot.
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