It was a good day yesterday. Good Sunday school class, good sermon, lunch with our church family, the afternoon spent with my daughter and her family, then evening church with them so we could hear our 8-year-old grandson play his cello in church for the first time. He’s been taking lessons for only three months, and he loves it. He did a fine job, and I love it that he’s so excited about his music.
But when we drove up to my daughter’s house, I noticed the kids waving to us from their bedroom windows, and because I was looking up, I wasn’t paying attention to my feet. Not a good idea for someone my age. I pulled a typical “Linda,” tripped on the curbing, and went down like a sack of potatoes. I knew I was going to fall, did my best to do it as gently as possible, but a fall is a fall. This morning, I’m aching in places I forgot I had. In spite of my efforts to fall so I didn’t land on my artificial knees, they hurt too–and I didn’t even fall on them!
Well, this too shall pass, and I’m glad I didn’t perform my dying swan in front of hundreds of people. The truth is, the worst part of a fall like that is the humiliation. The physical stuff goes away after a couple of days, but the red-faced embarrassment sticks around for a lot longer.
I guess the best thing I can say about is that I’m sure glad that’s over with 🙂