We woke up yesterday to ice-covered streets. But we breed ’em tough up here, and school wasn’t even delayed. I bobbled my way down to the bus stop with the kids, and I nearly made it home before my feet slipped out from under me. With arms and legs flailing, I landed in a snow bank in front of our house. Did I mention that I was wearing a skirt? Thankfully it was a long one because I had an audience of neighbors still making their way home from the bus stop as well.
Kedron was just getting into his car and he called out, “Are you ok?”
I did a quick assessment of my bones and quickly bounced back to my feet. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just getting ready to tell you to be careful because it’s icy!”
He chuckled. “I see that!”
Whenever I fall (which seems to be often), I figure I have three options for getting up.
A) I can lay there and see what else I can do while I’m down there, wait for help, and take advantage of the sympathy offered.
B) I can bounce up quickly and act as if nothing happened. Who me? Fall? No! That was your imagination.
C) I can act as if I meant to fall and turn it into a comedy routine.
Since I’m not much of a stand-up (or would it be fall-down) comedienne, that rules out C. The older I get, the more A becomes the best option, since getting up isn’t as easy as it used to be. But most of the time, I pick option B. I bounce up, hoping no one noticed, and if they did I brush it off as nothing.
I tend to do the same when I stumble in life. I lived for years believing I had to always appear like I had everything together. I developed a tough outer shell, and when it cracked and people saw me stumble, I brushed it off as minor. I could handle it. I still had things together.
I’d rather be the one extending a hand to help. It’s my type-A/firstborn/driver/pride showing through. But I’m learning to reach up and accept the help of those around me when I fall. I’ve learned the beauty of a community of friends who offer shoulders to lean on and slow their pace to limp along with me.
Getting up gracefully isn’t easy, but I’m learning.
Two are better than one,
because they have a good return for their labor:
If either of them falls down,
one can help the other up.
But pity anyone who falls
and has no one to help them up.