I’ve been spending quite a bit of time shooting hoops lately in order to break up the utter monotony of my solitary work days. I have always had an unconventional way of shooting, but it works for me—I have a two-handed shot. Most people use one hand to propel the ball and the other to guide it, but no, not me.
I sincerely missed my right hand and its reliability!
My unique shooting style was not by conscious choice. During the summer before my freshman year in high school, I was in a car accident wherein one of my injuries was a broken right elbow. Since I am right-handed, I started high school trying to develop some ambidextrous skills.
Though my handwriting left much to be desired, it actually improved over time (this was long before computers or even word processors—okay, I’ve lost most of the modern world on that one…). Since my friends and I were very much obsessed with basketball, I often hung around while they played, and I practiced spinning the ball using my left hand. Again, this skill began to improve over time, but I sincerely missed my right hand and its reliability!
…it would never be the same.
Eventually, after two surgeries and weeks of physical therapy, I was able to use my right arm again—but it would never be the same. The effects of not using that arm had caused the muscles to atrophy, and though I regained strength over time, I had resorted to relying on my left arm to compensate on so many levels. I discovered that I could actually spin the basketball really easily with my right hand, though I had never done it before that point. Using my left hand immediately seemed foreign and awkward when it came to spinning the ball, though I had been practicing with it for weeks.
…a teammate tried to convince me to alter my shot…
On the other hand (pun intended?) when it came to shooting, I found that I lacked the strength to propel the ball to the hoop with my now inferior right arm, so I shifted my entire approach to split the aim and the strength between both of my arms. I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I gained accuracy, however, and I played basketball that way all through high school. When I went to college, a teammate tried to convince me to alter my shot, and I gave it a try, but it was an utter failure. Four years was more than enough to establish the habit, and even if I didn’t look like the other girls when I shot, I was much more accurate with my own way of shooting.
Events and choices affect us often for years after the fact. Some adults in my life told me years later that I was a much more serious teenager after experiencing the ordeal of that car accident. Though I am sure their observations were correct on some level, I didn’t focus on the accident or see myself that way—I remember enjoying the challenge of spinning that basketball on my left hand and seeing how well I could sign my name with my left hand and playing seasons of basketball with my lifelong friends, and shooting the ball with both hands.
It’s always a choice of what we take away from an experience…
It’s always a choice of what we take away from an experience; that ordeal shaped part of who I am today. I had begun to learn the lifelong lesson of trusting God with my weaknesses since what I’d relied on for strength was taken away. Psalm 46:1-3 says, “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” After this ordeal, I learned to appreciate my physical strength when it returned though I had begun to understand that God’s strength is what I needed–He never leaves me, no matter the problem or storm.