I figured it would happen sooner or later. Today was the day.
All winter, I have been navigating through lots of slippery sidewalks and streets in my walking and running routine. I have tried to be very careful on the ice, and I think I have gotten pretty good at staying on my feet.
But, finally, I fell. The spill took place in the last mile of my run this morning. The temperature had dipped below freezing overnight and I saw some slick spots as I jogged my usual route. Near the end, I slipped a bit on a sidewalk, then tried to slow down as I crossed the street. My foot hit a patch of ice, and I fell sideways. I tore a dime-sized hunk of skin off the palm of my right hand, and bruised my elbow and knee. But, thank the Lord, there were no broken bones.
Several years ago, two of my coworkers broke their arms in March falling on ice. So, I’m very aware of the dangers that the freeze and thaw of late winter bring. On the positive side, one fall during an entire winter is pretty good, if you ask me. I’m sure hoping not to add any more spills to this total.
The scrape on my palm made me think about Jesus and the wounds he had on his hands from the nails when he was crucified. I experienced some pain as I washed my hand, but I’m sure it’s nothing compared to the agony that Jesus endured. So many times when I think of Christ’s passion, I am amazed that he was willing to take on such great suffering.
I know that I do not possess such a willing spirit. But, at least, during Lent and after a fall like this, I can experience more gratitude for the price Jesus paid for my salvation.