Stumbling

Yesterday I went for a run with my five-year-old and my dog. I didn't want to run. It was Saturday. I wanted to sleep and eat and sleep some more. But the dog was overeager and the five-year-old was holding me to the promise I had made earlier in the week that he could ride his bike alongside of me while I ran on Saturday.

So, there we are, running along, only a few blocks from home when I realize I am falling toward the ground. In my head I'm thinking "Roll! Roll!" I finished with a roll, but my knees and hands took the majority of the beating. I lay there on my back at the side of the road in pain and humiliation with my dog and son hovering over me to see if I'm okay.

I was honestly hurt enough that I couldn't just get up and walk away. I lay there with my bleeding hands and knees in the air trying to figure out how to get up without using said hands or knees. A concerned elderly gentleman came out of his house to see if I was okay. It was kind of him, and I assured him I just had some scrapes and bruises, but I was embarrassed. I was just running along and I tripped over an uneven sidewalk.

Apologizing to Joshua, I told him mommy was too hurt to keep running, and we'd have to go home. He was bummed, but saw the evidence dripping down my leg and road home without complaining. As I walked I felt my knee swelling and my hands throbbing. By the time I got home I had two goose eggs on my knee with lots of gravel lodged inside. Ouch.

I hate falling. I hate looking foolish. And I hate feeling stupid.

Being a teacher, I think there must be a lesson in here somewhere. Maybe it's that I feel the same about tripping up in life.

I don't like it.

If I had my choice I'd be perfect. I'm not a perfectionist (I actually have an unhealthy fear of them), I just don't like to mess up. And I think I have some solid reasons for that.

1) Falling hurts - my knee is still sore to the touch, and hurts to bend or straighten. Because of the pain I can't do all of the things that I normally do. I have to rest and nurse myself back to health. I need help from others and patience. This annoys me, and I don't like pain.

2) Tripping is embarrassing - we all know that this was our greatest fear at high school/middle school graduation - that we'd trip and fall on the stage in front of everyone. Real life isn't any better. When people see me mess up, I get embarrassed. I don't want the whole world to know how imperfect I am, how often I mess up, and I don't want them judging me for it.

Even my five-year-old, who is used to falling and hurting himself (a lot) commented that mommies don't usually fall down. "I know," I said, "I just wasn't paying attention to my feet. See, we all trip and fall sometimes." Maybe seeing me fall makes him feel better about his record, but I fear that it opens his eyes to how weak and vulnerable I really am and makes him insecure (kind of like it does to me).

3) The evidence takes a while to clean up - I look like I had some sort of accident, but with no cool story to go with it, just some gross scabs. So, whenever I'm wearing shorts for the next few days people will likely ask me what happened. My response will probably be something like, "I'm a big dork." I keep thinking that this is not what God wants me to say, but that's all my embarrassment can come up with. Somehow I think that slamming myself first will preempt the obvious judgment they will come to.

But, as I was journaling this morning and talking to God about my fall I felt like he asked me, "Leah, who are you really?"

"I know, I'm not a dork, I'm still a daughter of the King."

Pretty cool that a banged up mess like me can still carry a title like that, I just don't know if I'll have the courage to use it when people look at my knee in disgust (or maybe sympathy) and ask what happened.

"I'm a dork" still feels more fitting. I guess that's what's so amazing about grace.