The painters were back, bright and early yesterday. Like … 7:30. I saw them approaching the , so I was hustling to the back door to make sure that gate was unlocked. Unfortunately, Freddy reached the door about the same time I did. I stepped on or near her (couldn’t tell which, but my feet got tangled up with her little body). She was either scared or hurt. Either way, she yelped. I twisted to avoid her, not to mention my right arm (that’s the one I’m supposed to guard with my life for ten days following surgery). My feet slipped from beneath me. And then came the crash.
My arm swiped through a shelf full of Chris’ sewing stuff. My elbow followed that up by hanging on the sewing machine table and dragging it a few feet away from the wall. My back and head connected with the TV tray holder, sending them crashing to the floor under me. I landed with a thud on my back - left side, I hasten to add, thus ever protecting that right arm.
Of course Freddy took off running one direction. Chris came dashing in from the opposite direction, asking if I was OK. Meanwhile, my watch was going crazy, asking if it should make the emergency call to 911. Ain’t it great to be loved?
I was fine. Well, at least I had to convince my watch and my wife I was fine. I figured I would have a few days of a sore back (Feels like I was right on that note, by the way). But, all in all, I think I’ll be fine.
John 6:35 says, “I am the bread of life,” Jesus told them. “No one who comes to Me will ever be hungry, and no one who believes in Me will ever be thirsty again.”
Father, thank you for cushioning that fall I took. I suppose it could have been much worse. Amen.
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