Tumbles

I took a tumble on Friday when I was out running errands.
After Jonah’s morning homeschooling, I snuck away to the dry cleaner to drop off the casualties of our last shrimp scampi dinner. Because it was lunchtime, the parking lot was filled with patrons of the hole-in-a-rock Mexican restaurant next to the dry cleaner. I navigated the parking lot, arms filled with Mike’s clothes. Instead of walking along the buildings of the shopping center, I cut across a corner of uneven pavement.
My left ankle turned sideways, and I thought to myself, “I’m going down.”
I hit my left hip first and the palm of my left hand next. My chin was cushioned by Mike’s blue polo and a pair of brown khakis. Lying prone on the ground, I took inventory of myself. Nothing was broken, not even the skin on my left hand. I had landed on my left side, but the pain in my right hip was what flared up. Physical therapy for hip bursitis hasn’t worked, so I started seeing a chiropractor. I supposed he would want to hear about the fall. I took another moment before standing up purse in one hand, the clothes bundle in the other. One tentative step. One firmer step.
Then the door to the restaurant opened. A little old man hobbled out eyes wide, concern written all over his wrinkled face.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I brushed a brown leaf off of my blue denim skirt and smiled, “I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
“My wife told me to come out here and check on you. We saw you fall! She kept telling me to hurry, but this was the fastest I could get out.”
I said, “I really appreciate it.” If I had broken a wrist or sprained my ankle, it would have been awesome to have someone help me. I appreciated his good intentions but sort of wished he hadn’t come. Not being hurt, it was humiliating to picture people eating their chips and salsa while watching me fall on my face.
What I wanted most was sympathy from my friends. On the way to the pharmacy to pick up more Christmas cards and to the bank, I called multiple friends. I am thankful that suffering isn’t a competition. The first friend I called was struggling with newly diagnosed chronic sickness in her child, but before sharing her story, she said, “Oh no! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I in turn listened to my friend and gave her every reassurance of my friendship and concern. There was no comparison of troubles, only sweet compassion between friends. I’m so blessed by the people who love me and who let me into their lives.
When I came home, I told Coryn, “I fell down and hurt myself.”
She gave me a big hug in addition to a lot of sympathetic attention. She listened as Mike, Sophia and the rest of the kids heard the tale which grew with each retelling into the detailed description I’ve just written.
At the third retelling, Coryn laughed and said, “Your story grows every time you tell it.”
“It just might give me something to write about,” I said.
After we put the dinner dishes in the dishwasher and cleaned up the kitchen, Coryn advised me to take some Advil and gave me another big hug before I went to bed. She’s the best. There’s nothing quite like having a mother to mother me. My mom would have turned eighty years old last Thursday.
It’s a big deal for me to be able to feel bad without comparing my trouble to other troubles in my life or to other people’s suffering. I don’t like pain and for that afternoon my fall was a big deal to me. I’m proud of myself for asking for the support and sympathy I wanted and accepting the love that everyone gave me.
A few weeks ago, when our power went out for two days, it was hard for me not to compare my troubles with other people’s trials. An early snowstorm came while the yellow leaves still clung to the trees. The electric company stopped annual trimming to save a little money, so when the leaves of the trees filled with snow like golden platters, the weight broke the branches which took the powerlines down. We had no heat and no water because the well pump stopped working. It was fine the first day because the house took a long time to cool down, and our water tanks were full. Justin toasted bread over the fire pit for us, and I cooked up our eggs on the gas stovetop. It was an adventure that made me feel thankful for times when we do have electricity and how blessed I am with friends who were willing to have us come over if we needed to. The second day when I woke up to a cold house with toilets that wouldn’t flush, it was a different story. I thought about the people who had been hit by Hurricane Helene who still didn’t have electricity and running water weeks later, but it didn’t help to think about how much worse it could be when I felt miserable enough as it was. The power came on that afternoon right after Mike took Coryn and Xenia to his brother Ben’s house and right before Jonah and Justin started using melted snow in the toilets like our neighbors did.
Now that Syra’s Scribbles V is published, I’m working on Syra’s Scribbles VI. Earlier this week I finished an essay where my younger self compares her suffering through the years. Right after I gave birth to Justin I was convinced that having six children was the hardest time my life had ever been and would ever be, as if there was some sort of prize for the worst day or worst year ever. Looking back, I know that life got harder. It’s typical for me to feel like I’m at a peak of suffering when I’m having a hard time. There’s no perspective. Maybe it’s because life is good right now or maybe it’s because I’ll be turning fifty in about eight weeks, but I’m in a place to validate all the difficult days.
Life has been so very hard at times, and I expect more difficult days to come. What’s made it easier for me is letting people love me and finding ways to allow suffering to lead to connection. Knowing I’m not alone helps to turn my complaints into gratitude.
Today my priest shared advice from a holy father: Wake up every morning, make the sign of the cross, and think of something to give thanks for. Connection and gratitude are at the top of my New Year’s resolutions for 2025. Perhaps with awareness of all my blessings and gratitude for all the people in my life, this year will be the best year yet. That’s the competition I want to win.