This miracle is a very strange one that happened to me. It is a great example of God knowing what is best for you, even when you feel like you are suffering. During the baseball season of my senior year, I broke my arm. It was a game against Detroit Lakes, and the first batter of their team walked up to the plate. After a second pitch, he hit a long ball in between center and left field. I played center, and another kid named Jace played left. We both sprinted towards the ball. It was perfectly in the middle of us, so no one called it. At the last second I dove for it. I felt the ball hit my glove and I squeezed hard. I came down with the ball and rolled. I heard a small crack, but still stood up. The ball was on the ground in front of me and my arm was in an “s” shape. I started yelling at Jace to look at my arm. As he was picking up the ball he glanced over and swore. The kid who hit it was on third base. Time was called and I started to jog in to show my coach, but everyone started yelling at me to not move. I did not realize how bad my arm was broke. When the coaches and ambulance crew got onto the field, I started to realize I might not be playing baseball anymore. I asked one of the ambulance crew to just pop it back in so I could keep playing. He just looked at me until my coach said, “Your arm is broken, you can’t play.” At this point I wanted to start crying, not from the pain, but from the idea of not playing my senior year of baseball. My whole future was being torn away from me. That fall I was supposed to go play baseball at Bemidji State University. The coach was looking at me, and at a possible scholarship. I was hitting .500 that year without many errors in the field. As I was contemplating how much this was going to affect my future, we walked over to the ambulance. My dad was waiting there. He just looked at my arm and asked if he could drive me himself so we would not have to pay for the ambulance. They said that I would be much safer if they stabilized my arm inside the ambulance. He did not argue, so I stepped into the ambulance. At this point, I was so emotionally confused that I decided to put off thinking about my baseball future. I talked with the ambulance crew and made some jokes. I remember how taken aback they were by my excitement to ride in an ambulance for the first time. I had never broken anything before, or even been in the hospital for anything serious. They asked my pain level and I said a “1” if even that. They asked if I wanted morphine, something I had never had before, so I accepted. It made my whole body feel warm. After we got to the hospital, I was brought into a room where they wrapped my arm in some kind of blue material, then I talked with my parents. I asked my dad how long He thought it would be before I could play baseball again. He just said I would be lucky to even play summer baseball. That was like three months away, so I just told Him that was not going to happen, that I would be back in for the spring. I was to have surgery the next morning. A doctor came in and put me under drugs to put my arm back into place. Apparently while I was under, I kept telling the doctor to take it easy on my arm. I honestly wished my dad would have videotaped that part because I guess it was funny. I went to bed that night and probably experienced the most pain and aching I have ever had. I do not think I really slept that night. The hydrocodone they gave me for the pain did not help much. I went in for surgery early the next morning. I was put under again, but longer this time. I really do not remember much, but I do remember counting down from 100 and making it past 90. Everyone says you do not get past 90 but I did. So, that was a minor victory. After the surgery, all I wanted to do was sleep, but the nurse made me eat a piece of toast, and my dad wanted to get home. After that surgery, I was mad. I was mad that God would take away my future so quickly. I was mad that I couldn’t do anything with my left arm. Everywhere I went, people wanted to know what happened. Even to this day, people point at my two large scars and ask “how I did that.” Right away life was fine because of the attention, but once the next baseball practice started up, I knew I couldn’t take having that arm for much longer. Only three days in and I was sick of my dumb arm. I decided that I was going to heal it in 3 weeks so that I could play the rest of the season. My mom and dad laughed at me when I told them this. The doctor had said 8-12 weeks before I will be recovered. I had laughed at him. I had about six screws and two metal plates keeping my arm in place. I was told I could get them removed later, but I always thought it was cool to be part metal. When I decided to heal my arm in three weeks, I researched how to grow bone back quickly. There obviously was not an overnight treatment, but I did read a story where a man healed his quickly by eating a lot of calcium. I knew what I had to do at this point. I went to the store and bought everything that had to do with calcium. Yogurt, milk, cheese, anything I could find. My dad laughed when I came home. He said I was just wasting my money, and that the bone would heal at the same rate. I wasn’t done though. I had my mom buy me vitamins to take at night. I took calcium, vitamin k, vitamin e, vitamin d, fish oil, and multivitamins. I was making sure I was as healthy as I could be for my bone to heal correctly. I was also starting to get big in the gym before the accident, so now I knew I was going to have to start all over again. I couldn’t use my left arm so everyday became leg day. I would lift legs, then ride bike for 20 minutes, then usually sauna. My friends were all pretty cool about it. I remember the night that I broke my arm, Chandler came over to see me and I almost broke down crying about it. He just gave me a hug and told me I would heal it quickly. That was something really cool he did not have to do. Now, I was still mad about my arm though. Every practice I did as much as I could. I hit balls by holding the bat and ball in my right arm and throwing it high enough so I had time to swing the bat around. Otherwise, I just watched. It was horrible. The games were worse though. I sat for two hours either watching my team win or lose without me. The worst was watching them lose when I knew I could be helping. Throughout this whole thing, there was something in the back of my mind that told me this was for the best, that this was God’s plan, but I didn’t like His plan. After a while of eating and exercising, about two weeks, the doctor let me take off my splint. I did not need a cast because the bone just needed to stay straight, there was no need for a hard cast. After I took it off, it smelled bad, mostly because I had to shower with it on, and sometimes the plastic bag covering it would rip and water would get in. After taking off the splint, my skin was gross. It had dead skin, and the glue that they used to keep the stitches in were dried to it. It took me awhile to clean my arm, but I felt much better knowing I could shower without it. I still had to wear a brace, but it was much better than the splint. At this point, I have had a broken arm for about 2 and half weeks. I was so tired of not playing baseball or doing anything but legs anymore, so I decided to start riding motorcycle again. My dad said it probably wasn’t the best idea, but I didn’t really care. I just needed to do something fun again. I started up the little 250 Kawasaki crotch rocket and swung my leg over. I could barely squeeze the left handlebar because my brace was blocking it, but that was all I needed. I started off down the road. It was so great to ride again. I started riding to school every day. People were probably wondering how a kid with a broken arm was riding motorcycle, but I did not really care. My life continued with the arm, and I started to realize that maybe this was for the best, because God was testing my resilience to see if I could get back to my old life by trusting in Him. So, I kept up the eating large amounts of calcium and doing legs so that when I got back to baseball, I would be faster than ever. Even though I was trying, I didn’t get back in baseball before spring, but after watching my team lose in playoffs, I was ready to go again. It was the first week of summer ball when I was cleared to play by the doctor. Honestly, I knew I was healed before that fifth week, but the appointment was in that fifth week, and my dad said my arm wasn’t healed anyway. I knew it was though, and by the fifth week, the doctor said it was fully healed and I could play baseball again. I cried on the way home from the hospital. I was so happy that I was normal again, except for a weak arm. I had to do physical therapy for a couple of weeks which I absolutely destroyed in just one. My coach couldn’t believe it when I came to practice that day with clearance. I had dreams of becoming the comeback kid who broke arm, but still went on to be great. My dreams were shattered quickly when I tried to swing a bat. My wrist had gotten so tight from the metal in it and from not moving for five weeks, that I could not swing the bat quickly. Usually you flick your wrists quickly when you swing, but I couldn’t. I could hardly hit a ball 50 feet. I didn’t get discouraged though. After practice I went to lift at the gym. Everything was so heavy, I had to start by curling 15 pounds when I was doing 40 pounds before my break. My bench press went down as well. I could hardly do 100 pounds when before the break, I was hitting 200. I didn’t care about that though, I just wanted baseball back. I worked hard to get my arm back to normal, but I just couldn’t hit the ball like I used to. I still remember the game we played against Bemidji, when the college coach was watching us. I had hit two doubles that game, which was alright for the old me, but amazing for the new broken arm me. I just remember him saying, “Keep working at it.” I just remember thinking that there was no way I was going to play on the BSU team. My batting average at the end of the summer ball season was barely .200. No college would give a scholarship or even let that player start with those kinds of stats. My life was crumbling again. I still thought that maybe I could do it though, so I planned to play at BSU. As soon as I moved in for college, I started to meet people everywhere. I met a few kids, Nate, Kaleb, and Jake who were lifters. I basically hung out with them the most, and I still do. I had a few flings with some girls, but nothing worked out for dating anyway. Then, my friendstold me about Chi-Alpha and Kings, two organizations that worshiped Jesus. I sort of went and thought they were okay. My real concern was still baseball. I went to the first day of sign and immediately was let down when I saw how many upper classmen and freshman there were. I quit right then and there. It was probably the best decision I had made, ahead of quitting basketball my senior year. It sucked too because I had quit basketball to lift for baseball, and then my broken arm wrecked 2 years of progress. Anyway, I started having time to do other things. I joined clubs, organizations, and started going to religious stuff more. Best decision ever. I had never felt so close to God. That is how I knew that God’s plan was good. If I was in baseball,I would never have joined Chi or Kings, and they have changed my whole life. I would probably be a partyer if I was in baseball, that environment does not really promote God. One of my friends from high school plays here at BSU and he has changed a lot from trying to be a good kid in high school to just hooking up with girls and drinking a little bit here. I relate a lot with a couple other guys who also broke or injured something during their senior year. It really was horrible going through, but I am so thankful that it did happen. It showed resilience and trust in God getting through it. God was trying to get my attention that that life was not right for me. I got much closer to God and now have a scar with a story behind it.