Old enough to know better…someday

“Whumpf.” I lay there, dazed and out of breath. As soon as I’d hit the landing, I knew I’d be paying dearly for my unfortunate misstep down our basement stairs. My eyes had gone dark, my ears were ringing, and there was a weird eletric-y feeling zipping up and down my arms and legs.

Somehow, I’d missed that third stair, lost my balance, and tumbled head first down the steps. Not wanting to hit my head on the landing floor and risk concussion or tempt a broken ankle by trying to brace myself, I twisted my body so that my shoulder would hit instead. It sure did.

“Whew. Now I’ve done it,” I said to myself. “I’ll be feeling this tomorrow for sure.”

Not wanting to fall behind on my day’s to-do list, I popped some Iboprophen in my mouth and swallowed them down with a big glass of water. Surely the medication would circumvent any ensuing inflamation or discomfort. “I’m tough. I’ll be fine,” I flattered myself.

I did pretty good for the rest of the day. In the evening, I was still feeling pretty good. So, I did a round on the treadmill since I’d not gotten out for a walk during the day. Not only did the treamilling hype my adrenaline and spirits, but I beat my previous record for distance and endurance.

“Ha,” I chuckled to myself as I dabbed away the sweat. “That fall hardly affected me at all. I must be in pretty good shape for my age. Looks like I fooled the calendar.”

Yeah, right. I found out just how smart the calendar is when I got up this morning. My hero-shoulder is so stiff and sore that I can barely lift my arm. Turning my head side to side or moving my leg isn’t so fun, either. In fact, most of the left side of my body is in pain.

Sitting on the couch, nursing both my morning coffee and my poor, aching body, I realized that, no matter how I try, I can’t escape my objective order of being. In other words, God created me to be who I am with the body, resources, gifts, state of life, vulnerabilities, and faculties that I have in exactly the way I have them. No matter what medication or flattery I feed myself, I’m still who I am and always will be. Telling myself it’s not going to hurt might work for a while, but in the end, if I take a tumble, I’m going to experience injury and pain. I can’t simply will myself to be something I’m not.

Isn’t that true about everything in our lives?

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