Pride Goes Before a Fall (pt 1)
So here’s what really happened, and here’s my take on the whole thing:
One fine Sunday evening in September, our church youth group was meeting at the home of our pastor and his lovely wife. Most of the kids were taking advantage of the beautiful Indian Summer evening that we were having by swimming in the new pool. Our regular youth pastor was out of town, so I was kind of/sort of in charge of the group for the evening. One of the junior girls had prepared a great lesson the Beatitudes and we were having a fabulous time. The pastor’s wife had begun a toilet papering job at the home of the out of town youth pastor a couple of nights before, but because of time constraints and a supply shortage had run out of time. Because he was due back in town that evening, we really wanted to make sure he had the welcome he deserved and wanted to make sure he was in no doubt about how much we missed him. The lead pastor and I agreed to drive a group of kids over to “finish up the job,” so to speak. My oldest son drove over in his truck as well.
As a teenager, I was pretty much one of the queens of pranks. One time, in the 11th grade, we picked up a friend’s VW bug and lifted up on to her porch so that her family was unable to open her front door the next morning. I ‘kidnapped’ numerous friends, and was ‘kidnapped’ myself out of bed in the wee hours to be taken to breakfast and celebrate the day in my pjs. My record for tp-ing was a 16-roller for one house. Of course, it wasn’t the same if you bought the toilet paper; you had to steal it from Pizza Hut. My kids have heard these stories all their life and really wanted me to go along with the group to show them how it was done. So of course, being the cool mom that I am, I agreed. DISCLAIMER: We did NOT steal the toilet paper. It was bought and paid for by said pastor’s wife. She didn't come...sent her husband instead, just in case the police got called.
Essentially, I was really just along as a getaway driver. For the record: I had made one beautiful festoon over the garage lights and was NOT running, jumping, acting silly or otherwise doing something totally stupid. (I own that it was partially stupid. I was toilet papering, after all). I stepped back to observe the kid’s work and admire my own handiwork, and
CRASH!
I fell off the driveway. In all fairness, it was really a tricky thing. And in all honesty, I am a huge klutz. It was still daylight, but the sun was beginning to set. The driveway dropped off into a short retaining wall and then again to a run-off apron and on into a curb. Most driveways around here are either bordered by grass or gravel. The concrete here went on, and I think that out of the corner of my eye, I didn’t notice the drop and just assumed the driveway went on at the same level. It didn’t. I fell and fell hard. All the way down, I could hear many thoughts running through my head: “This can’t be good…uh oh…this will leave a mark…NOOOOOoooooo!” SNAP! Tyler heard the snap and thought I’d broken my sunglasses. Not so. It was my wrist. Or my nose. Or my ankle. Or my foot. But probably my wrist....however, you should SEE my glasses...they have some really impressive scratches on them.
Funnily enough, with at least a dozen people there, no one actually saw me fall. My daughter was even video-taping, and didn’t catch it. She did, however catch an audio clip of me saying, “I’m a little nauseous…” My son looked up at the snap and came running over. Pastor Dan did too. I kept insisting, “Give me a minute, I’ll be ok…” Again, not so. Dan told me my arm “didn’t look good--not good at all” and I should go to the ER. I should note here that Dan often seems to be present when people hurt themselves and probably has a handle on this. And also that he looked a little green around the gills at the sight of my arm and face. My arm was shaped roughly like a cross between a banana and a very large piece of rick-rack. It was decided that Tyler should take me over to the ER….so off we went....
One fine Sunday evening in September, our church youth group was meeting at the home of our pastor and his lovely wife. Most of the kids were taking advantage of the beautiful Indian Summer evening that we were having by swimming in the new pool. Our regular youth pastor was out of town, so I was kind of/sort of in charge of the group for the evening. One of the junior girls had prepared a great lesson the Beatitudes and we were having a fabulous time. The pastor’s wife had begun a toilet papering job at the home of the out of town youth pastor a couple of nights before, but because of time constraints and a supply shortage had run out of time. Because he was due back in town that evening, we really wanted to make sure he had the welcome he deserved and wanted to make sure he was in no doubt about how much we missed him. The lead pastor and I agreed to drive a group of kids over to “finish up the job,” so to speak. My oldest son drove over in his truck as well.
As a teenager, I was pretty much one of the queens of pranks. One time, in the 11th grade, we picked up a friend’s VW bug and lifted up on to her porch so that her family was unable to open her front door the next morning. I ‘kidnapped’ numerous friends, and was ‘kidnapped’ myself out of bed in the wee hours to be taken to breakfast and celebrate the day in my pjs. My record for tp-ing was a 16-roller for one house. Of course, it wasn’t the same if you bought the toilet paper; you had to steal it from Pizza Hut. My kids have heard these stories all their life and really wanted me to go along with the group to show them how it was done. So of course, being the cool mom that I am, I agreed. DISCLAIMER: We did NOT steal the toilet paper. It was bought and paid for by said pastor’s wife. She didn't come...sent her husband instead, just in case the police got called.
Essentially, I was really just along as a getaway driver. For the record: I had made one beautiful festoon over the garage lights and was NOT running, jumping, acting silly or otherwise doing something totally stupid. (I own that it was partially stupid. I was toilet papering, after all). I stepped back to observe the kid’s work and admire my own handiwork, and
CRASH!
I fell off the driveway. In all fairness, it was really a tricky thing. And in all honesty, I am a huge klutz. It was still daylight, but the sun was beginning to set. The driveway dropped off into a short retaining wall and then again to a run-off apron and on into a curb. Most driveways around here are either bordered by grass or gravel. The concrete here went on, and I think that out of the corner of my eye, I didn’t notice the drop and just assumed the driveway went on at the same level. It didn’t. I fell and fell hard. All the way down, I could hear many thoughts running through my head: “This can’t be good…uh oh…this will leave a mark…NOOOOOoooooo!” SNAP! Tyler heard the snap and thought I’d broken my sunglasses. Not so. It was my wrist. Or my nose. Or my ankle. Or my foot. But probably my wrist....however, you should SEE my glasses...they have some really impressive scratches on them.
Funnily enough, with at least a dozen people there, no one actually saw me fall. My daughter was even video-taping, and didn’t catch it. She did, however catch an audio clip of me saying, “I’m a little nauseous…” My son looked up at the snap and came running over. Pastor Dan did too. I kept insisting, “Give me a minute, I’ll be ok…” Again, not so. Dan told me my arm “didn’t look good--not good at all” and I should go to the ER. I should note here that Dan often seems to be present when people hurt themselves and probably has a handle on this. And also that he looked a little green around the gills at the sight of my arm and face. My arm was shaped roughly like a cross between a banana and a very large piece of rick-rack. It was decided that Tyler should take me over to the ER….so off we went....
Comments
Looking forward to Part 2
Christal Garcia