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A Prayer and a Kick
(Unpublished article)
I had been married less than a year when my 12 year-old step son Eli came into the kitchen and told us his new bike had been stolen. "I locked it at the back lot of the store, so no one would even see it," he said, downcast.
We talked about his loss over dinner. I suggested we pray about it. "God, Eli's bike was stolen, and we'd like to get it back. If not, we'd like to somehow get him a new one."
Two months went by. My wife Char and I attended our first Portland State University football game of the season. At halftime someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was an athletic department official, who told me my name had been selected with two other season ticket holders, to compete at halftime in a field goal kicking contest. Prizes would be awarded.
The other contestants and I took the field, in front of 10,000 fans. I was 37 and it had been twenty years since I'd punted and kicked a football around with my younger brother. My first kick (out of three) was a 15 yard attempt. I waved my arms to get the fans' support. It was thrilling to hear the roar of the crowd. I aimed carefully and kicked the ball through the uprights. The next kicker, a young woman, missed badly. The last kicker, also egging the crowd on, booted it through. We were tied.
The next kick was from twenty yards. Again I played cheerleader and then split the uprights. I tried to give the young woman some pointers, but she had soft tennis shoes, and missed again. The third kicker teed up the ball and easily made his attempt.
On the last kick, from 25 yards, I aimed too low on the ball. It spun rapidly, barely clearing the bar for my third field goal in a row. It was up to the last kicker to tie me for the win. He kicked the ball hard, but it sailed wide left. I had won!
The first prize, a mountain bike, was wheeled out to me on the turf. I rode it off the field, waving at the cheering fans. I had my 15 minutes of fame -- and Eli had a new bike. God had answered our prayer in a way I'd never expected.
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