Ok, I did it again. Stepped off the curb, and the momentum just kept going and my feet couldn't keep up! I tried, valiantly I might add, to keep my balance, alas to no avail. I ended up in the street face down, spread eagle fashion (not to flattering I'm sure). I stayed there for a few seconds hoping either a) that no one saw me and if I just stayed there I could just quietly get up and no one would ever know, or b) that I was really just dreaming. Unfortunately, neither of these worked. I started hearing the voices almost immediately (and not from heaven either!). "Oh, Joyce, are you ok?" "How did THAT happen?" etc., etc., etc. RATS! Hmpf! I got up (with SOME assistance--one on each side of me) and brushed myself off. "I'm OK!", I say to the repeated question of "Are you OK?" "Are you SURE?" But all the while I'm thinkin, "Oh, brother! MORE physical therapy. Later that evening, I was surveying the damage. Road rash on the knees, plus bruising and minor swelling. Significant bruises on both hands--you know, you just instinctively put them out to stop your face from smacking into the pavement. But amazingly enough, the elbow and shoulder seem to be in pretty good shape.
As I was considering the long-term outcome, I started thinking about how we go through life. Just stepping off a curb, like we've done a hundred thousand times before. Maybe its taking a new job, or making a commitment of time or money, or promising something to a child. Maybe even something as normal as just getting out of bed in the morning. And then the momentum takes over, and WHAM!, we end up face down on the pavement with road rash.
If we took the time to have a *different* kind of road rash on our knees, maybe our spiritual life wouldn't have so many bruises and torn ligaments! If we got down on our knees and had a conversation with our heavenly Father, maybe that pavement wouldn't be coming up to meet and greet our faces! I know, for myself, that I could use a lot more prayer road rash, and a lot less self-induced road rash.
Father, help me to be on my knees more in conversation with you. I know I can count on you to lift me to my feet with your strong arms and gentle hands. Thank you for caring for me. I love you.
For those who are concerned--I seem to be recovering nicely.
Bless you all!