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When I was in fourth grade, I loved to play baseball with the boys. In the alley where we played we didn't have any dirt to mark bases on, so we used whatever came to hand from the junk piles along the side. This particular day we found some boards to use, even though they had a few nails on their edges. When it came my turn at bat, I hit the ball and ran for first base. I got there all right but slipped and fell on one of the boards that had a nail sticking straight up. I ended up with a hole in my hand between my second and third fingers.
I ran home to my baby sitter. She was afraid and wanted to take me to a hospital. My parents had been allowing me to visit the Christian Science Sunday School. From what I was learning I felt God could take care of me. I wouldn't let the baby sitter do anything but wash out the hole.
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