Ever Fall on Your Face?

Tonight we got to go to a grown up party...with no kids...and no toys to trip over. So, I decided to wear my heels to go a little fancy for the evening. I mean, it's not very often that we get a night out, much less, without the little ones.

After a little eating and talking, I decided to venture outside to the outdoor games. As I was walking down the brick steps, my fancy little heel got caught in the grooves of the mat, and down I went. All the way. My hands hit the pavement below me, with my heel still at the top of the stairs. With lots of people watching.

Do you ever do something where you think, "Did I seriously just do that?" and you wish that you didn't but you know you totally did. Thankfully these people are my friends, and helped me up, and asked if I was okay. And didn't even laugh at me.

I fall a lot. It wasn't just because I was wearing heels, even though I did regret that in the moment. But I fall a lot more than most people.

Like the time that I finished dancing in a performance, and then when I ran back to the dressing room, tripped over a step and landed on my foot the wrong way, and broke it.

Or the time that I was walking down the steps by a fountain, and wasn't really thinking, and stepped out and completely missed a step, and my feet came up over my head, and I landed on my rear end.

Or the many times that my ankle just chooses to go out, and I fall down.

Or when I was at church the other week and fell down the stairs.

Or the other day when I fell down holding my son, but thankfully didn't hurt him, just felt silly.

See what I mean? It comes out of nowhere for me. I guess I'm just clumsy. All those years of dance apparently didn't teach me how to be a graceful walker.

But sometimes in life, whether by the wrong decisions that we make or just by being blind and stumbling, we can just fall flat on our face. In front of people. Without knowing that it's coming. And without knowing how to recover. You feel ashamed. Embarrassed. And unable to get up.

The only hope comes in knowing One who can pick us up. One who doesn't care how far we fell. Or why we fell. Who doesn't point a finger and say, "I TOLD YOU TO WATCH OUT!" He only says, "I want to help you get up. I love you. You're not beyond my reach."

It makes me so thankful to know, that we are never beyond His reach. That He never tires of pulling us out of our mire. Even when the pit has been dug by our own hands.