I was taking a shower. Each time it gets a little easier. The shower doors are on a roll track enabled with the help of little plastic spinning circles. You have all seen these on your kitchen drawers, or shower doors, or sliding bedroom closet doors at home. Well, the first time I tried to move this semi clear plastic shower door? I anticipated that the doors would be ATTACHED. The innocent sliding pressure I applied actually resulted in some crashing, screeching and water going in directions not typically allocated for shower time (all over the bathroom floor!). Since that first shower? Things seem pretty mild, almost easy. I step in, and manually pick up, then move the shower door all the while being sure to hang it into place so it does not fall.
Perhaps this is odd to share, but I was washing my right leg and I looked at my knee. I mean I really looked at it. This is a place I haven’t really looked closely at in a while. Did you know I have a scar there? Yeah. I had almost forgotten. This is the leftover evidence testifying to the place where pavement crashed into my skin. No longer violent red in color, the spot is now a gentle pink. My car was getting fixed before I left the States. I waited briefly for the ride I was expecting but since I didn’t want to be late for work started walking to work. There wasn’t a sidewalk so I walked on the left hand side so that I would be able to see the oncoming vehicles. As a car came around the curb it seemed to get waaayy to close! In fear, as an automatic reaction to the whizzing I felt go past me, I stepped to the side. This proved to be an error. When I stepped over I actually stepped into a drainage ditch along the highway. My ankle rolled and the momentum of my fall caused me to land face forward on my knees and hands.
Many of you are aware of my deep appreciate of coffee, and that day was no exception: I had a cup of coffee I threw all over the ground as I fell. I tried to get up. I tried to walk. Between my rolled ankle (I wasn’t sure if it was broken!) and my busted-bloody knees and hurt hands? I could barely hobble. I REALLY REALLY wanted to sit on the side of the road. I wanted to wait there until someone came to get me. I wanted to be rescued that day. But even in my panicked state? This seemed highly unlikely. So instead I hobbled to work through tears and frustration and pain.
Why talk about the pink scar the size of a fifty-cent-piece adorning my right knee? Because I believe it is important to think about the things that happen to us. The things that impact you. In a lot of situations we don’t have control over what happens. There are unexpected deaths, accidents, bankruptcies, new jobs, people move, families grow, ect. You do get to decide how you respond to these events. Do you sit down? Do you keep walking? I’m not saying one is right or one is wrong, but encouraging you that you can choose to learn and grow and persevere. My scar reminds me of that day, and about my impatience. My fall, and my determination to keep going.