This week’s shoutout goes to my cousin Josh and his wife Rebecca in Chattanooga, Tennessee. Congratulations on your new baby boy! I can’t wait to meet him.
Now at this point in the race I’ve travelled to 10 countries, including Hungary and Peru; two countries not on my route. I’ve heard more than a dozen languages, some similar, but each country with a dialect of its own. But the subject of this weeks blog involves neither English or Spanish, Mandarin or Arabic, but the world’s real international language . . . football, or “soccer” as we Americans would call it.
I’ve played soccer in almost every country. It’s really a simple game, and it’s easy for most people…I’m not most people. Frankly, I suck. But during my third month in Bolivia, while we were working at a rehabilitation center for teenage boys, I was required to play so the two teams would be split evenly.
Fortunately, everyone knew not to pass it to me. It was technically five on five, but it really boiled down to the three best players on each team going at it.
That day there was a boy playing named Michael (I can’t give you his actual name, so we’ll stick with Michael). He was the oldest of the group, but you wouldn’t know it due to some development issues he suffered from. As a result of his disabilities, he didn’t easily fit in with the other teens there and seldom interacted with them. He rarely spoke, and during our time there he certainly never played soccer with the group.
But today was different…he was in the field! This was the first time we had seen him play with the other kids. Understand, he wasn’t very athletic, so the ball was rarely passed to him.
But then there was a moment . . .one of those epic, slow-motion, Chariots of Fire theme-playing-in-the-background moments, where he broke out down the field (an outdoor basketball court). One of his teammates kicked it on the ground from the far right, straight through a mass of running bodies, aiming for God knows who, but right where Michael happened to be. Without missing a beat, he kicked it right passed the goalie, and scored.
I don’t remember the score. I don’t remember who won. In fact I don’t think anybody did. It simply didn’t matter. The boys who never talked to him, and even boys on the other team went absolutely nuts. Me and my teammate RJ both went nuts. The other boys started chanting his name in Spanish, as he started doing his victory dance. The excitement lasted for probably two minutes.
Knowing this boys past, I’d venture a guess and say that those two minutes were among the best of his life. It wasn’t an important game, and the kick itself wasn’t some game-winning, impressive Pele-tricycle kick. But the look on Michael’s face after scoring that goal was among the most rewarding things I’ve witnessed on this journey. I saw God give this boy one of the smallest, seemingly most insignificant victories. But for him it was the world. For just a couple of minutes he was one of the guys, who had something to contribute, and he knew it.
I was grateful to have witnessed that goal. Bolivia was altogether one of my rougher months, but that look made the whole month worth it. And I learned that God can use even the most mundane things to show a person how much He loves him.
-Matt
