Concrete Message

The most incredible thing happened to me. Something that has never happened to me in my adult life.

I fell.

On the street and on my face.

I fell.


Hard enough to have a massive egg-sized bump on my forehead, a swollen lip, a broken finger and three cracked teeth. I can still feel the vibration of my mouth hitting the cement.

I fell hard enough to look up expecting to see Mum’s out-stretched hand reaching down to help me to my feet (ok, she would have yanked me to my feet).

I fell hard enough to travel back in time and I was a child again.

It had been a long sermon and I was glad to be out of church. I ran down the street wild and out of control, excited because it was Easter. I wanted to get home and tear into my basket. The next thing I knew, I was flat on my face. My pink tights torn and blood making its way down my leg. Worse still, I’d scuffed my white patent shoes and got my new Easter coat dirty.

Mum admonished me for running when she told me not to. She complained that I must think money grows on trees since I ruined my shoes and my coat must go to the dry cleaner. She was no-nonsense, so there would be no grilled-cheese sandwich to make it better.

But still, as she searched for signs of broken bones, she looked worried.

She loved me.

That was then; this is now.

I sat on the sidewalk and wondered what made me fall. Hot tears welled along the rims of my eyes. Those, I did not let fall.

But why did I?

No one was there to help (or even yank) me to my feet. Cars carrying at least a few people who would later talk about the woman they saw eat pavement as they drove by.

I wanted to cry.

I wanted my mother.

And there was something else.

This was no ordinary fall. It felt like a push. Something moved me and when I hit the ground the jolt awakened me and I saw something.

I saw myself.

I keep biting off more than I can chew of something I don’t want. I don’t have to do it all, be it all or know it all. It really is ok to follow my heart to my purpose.

Whenever I don’t follow my heart to my purpose, I stumble. And every time I stumble, my recovery is tenuous. I’m apprehensive and unsure. I never truly regain my stride.

This time I fell. That has never happened.

And I get it now. I really get it.

I can pick myself up, dust myself off and move forward. The body will heal and now the mind and heart have permission to do the same.

And with a little help from my friends, I’ll step confidently into my true power. I’ll only go where my spirit leads me.

And spit out anything I find unpalatable.

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