Thursday was the day we had been waiting for: Heather, Molly and I were going to San Francisco to celebrate Independence Day with Bill.
Bill is my husband and he works in San Francisco. No, really. He gets on a plane every Monday morning and flies to the city where he works all week and comes home Friday. This weekend, however, he was hosting a baseball game for some clients so he invited his family to come join him too.
I was really looking forward to it. Something about July in Seattle (perhaps the sun?) just makes it a rule that we have to put work aside and have fun.
But, before we left, Heather and I wanted to do some work in our garage--several moves home and some parent's things brought from Colorado where they are downsizing for a move to a retirement home has made our garage rather full and very disorganized.
I climbed the ladder to put some sleeping bags on our camping shelf. Suddenly, I knew that I was going to fall. I guess I even said it. It was almost as if someone or something pushed me over. Down I went, feeling a bit in slow motion.
But, the landing felt very much like concrete and kitchen chairs sticking into my arms, my side and my back.
I look like an abused woman. An bruise covers my entire right arm. I feel like an old woman when I move a way that arouses the injuries.
It's just got me thinking, however, about how much our physical state affects our entire life. The pain I was in affected my ability to enjoy San Francisco. It makes me feel vulnerable too. It makes it harder for me to embrace the challenge and delight of each day.
Take a moment to think about someone that you care about that lives with physical challenge. Pray a prayer for them.
And, just a word of caution: watch out for standing ladders!