Picking Us Up When We Fall

The other day while we were out and about in our neighborhood, my speed demon, Little, took a pretty major scooter spill. He’d gotten a bit ahead of me, so I didn’t see it, but I did hear screaming and, when I got around the bend, he was walking back toward me with blood all over his face, hands, and legs. My first feeling was panic (I mean, I’m the girl who passed out in CPR class at the thought of blood.) My second feeling was relief.

Yes, relief. Not only were we mere steps from our good friends’ house, but we were walking with another good friend we’d run into along the way who grabbed Pink so I could help Little without looking back. While I was inside my friend’s house assessing the damage (which wasn’t nearly as bad as it looked, thank goodness), Big and Pink were in good hands. And Little and I were too. We were in a safe place—one that felt like our home away from home.

Before I knew it, injuries were covered up by Cars bandages, intricately hand-made flowers and cards were being given to my little boy who was still shaking in my lap from the shock, a movie was on the TV to distract him, and dinner was on the table to sustain us all.

Yes, while I was the one lifting up Little after his fall, I, too, was being lifted up. In friendship. In generosity. In comfort. And at the end of the day, he may have gone home with a broken lip, but I went home with a full heart. And, on that particular day—even before the fall—it was a heart that needed a little extra love. I’m so lucky that I didn’t have to go far to find it.

Who picks you up when you’re down?