It’s terrifying, falling.
Realizing you’ve lost your grip, your touch with the world, and that there’s nothing you can do about it.
It’s scary, knowing you’re bound to face plant on concrete. And that even when you do manage to stand again, you’ll never be the same.
There will be scars. There will be bruises.
There will be permanent reminders of that time you lost it.
That time you did the thing no one wants to do.
The time you fell.
But sometimes falling can be exhilarating too. It can mean accepting your fragile state, your humanity, and accepting that you can’t always have it all together.
It reminds you that sometimes you need a break.
And when you’re too busy, or stubborn, to take one, life often throws one your way.
Giving up control is never easy.
Whether it be by choice, circumstance, or unfortunate accident.
That’s probably why so few people ever do so with any semblance of grace.
But along with the discouragement, the feelings of failure…
A fall brings a reset.
A chance to start again.
It brings an opportunity to choose bravery.
And bravery is always required to get back on the bike, or the proverbial horse.
Stepping back out into the world, where more failure undoubtedly awaits, takes courage that often goes overlooked.
But it’s so crucial to reaching for success.
Success, like faith, requires a willingness to fall.
A willingness to be made a fool.
A willingness to try again, even though you’re likely to fail.
Not only because you want to succeed, which you do.
But because that’s the only way to learn anything in this wonky life.
By trying. And failing.
By stepping. And falling.
And then stepping again. Wobbling as needed.
As you go through life, not gracefully, but surrounded by abundant grace.
Standing, or falling, you are accepted.
You’re more than fine.
Because you’re in unshaky arms.
You’re held in the steadiest of hands.
Hands that aren’t human, but know well what it’s like.
To be a girl, against the concrete.
Just a girl, stumbling along.
Afraid of the fall, but more afraid to remain still.
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