How Blessed We Are

    Sometimes we forget just how lucky we are. As I sit through yet another athletic motivational speech funded by the University, I'm reminded of how far I've come, and how blessed I am to have been able to make it this far.
    As a sixth grader, I decided to take up field hockey. My mother had played in high school, and since none of my other siblings played, I stepped up to the challenge. I was given a hand-me-down stick, most likely from the 70s, bought new shin guards, shiny new cleats, and a new mouth guard. I was ready to roll. Then tryouts came along. My first day was miserable: I was clumsy, uncoordinated, and slow. I recall telling my mom that I planned to quit; there was simply too much running involved. A few days later, after determining that I would stick it out for just a season, I made the A team, where only the most skilled and conditioned middle schoolers played. I was pretty good, if I do say so myself. The next year I was a captain, and the year after that, a leading scorer. By the time I got to high school, I was fully prepared to take on Varsity players from around the state. After playing four years of high school hockey, captaining, leading in goals, and playing for the state all star team, I was recruited to play for an extremely successful university.
And I almost gave it all up because I didn't like to run two laps around a 100 yard field. Ha.

Cordelia