Wednesday, December 7, 2011


I was riding so fast, with the neighbor boy, Johnny, on his bike right beside me.

"Race ya," he said.

I don't remember if I was winning. I do remember when my front wheel hit the end of the pavement and the beginning of the gravel. The handlebars stopped, but I didn't.

It was my first experience having the wind knocked out of me. The next thing I knew I was in dad's arms, and he was carrying me back to the house.

"Are you gonna die?" he said.

"Yes" I sobbed.

That laugh -the one where his eyes crinkle in the corners and his head tips back just a little. "No, you ain't gonna die."

He put me down gently on the couch and patched me up.

When we get hurt, God's perspective is different than ours.

1 comment:

  1. Ha! I can hear your dad saying those words! I want you to know that I really appreciate reading your blogs. They remind me of your grandmother and the way she used to write her stories. Sure do miss her. Keep up the good work.