Taking the Fall

Several years ago, when my oldest granddaughter was 5 weeks old, my daughter and her family came to visit.  It was close to my birthday, the weather was great, and I was so excited to have them in our home. We had all kinds of things planned--the zoo, barbecues, golfing, laughing, storytelling--all kinds of fun were in the works. And so one day the guys — my husband, son-in-law, and both of my sons — went golfing. I remember how pretty it was that day. Not too hot for the summer, no rain, very little humidity, a seemingly perfect day.

I don't remember exactly what my daughter and I had decided to do that day. I don't know whether we had gone shopping and were now home for the day, or had just decided to stay home. Anyway, she was in my kitchen, and I think she was going to put something together for dinner. I was holding my tiny little granddaughter and came walking into the kitchen when it happened. As I walked into the little butler's pantry turned breakfast nook, I stepped down--into the infant seat with my right foot. Well, it slid out from under me, and we went flying. I started to slide across the tile floor and instinctively wrapped my body around that baby. My feet went one way, my head the other--and as I was falling, my head and then my back slammed against the door jam, and down I went. I rolled into a fetal position with my arms wrapped protectively around my little 5-week-old baby granddaughter. I could hear my daughter screaming — Are you OK?  Are you OK? And all I could say was--take the baby, take the baby.

I knew that she was OK I had protected her. And I knew that I wasn't OK, but I didn't want my daughter to know that. So I said—Just let me lie here for a minute. I lay there on my side with my head cupped in my hands in excruciating pain. She wanted to call an ambulance, and she wanted to call her dad, but I kept saying--no, I'm OK, just give me a minute. After several long minutes, I was able to sit up and get my bearings. I assured her I was fine, but I think she had already called her dad. I think I remember the guys coming home early to make sure that I was OK. I never went to the doctor, but what I saw later that evening while getting ready for bed made me gasp out loud. I was bruised in several places. On the back of my right arm was a jet black bruise that went from right below my shoulder all the way to my elbow--a good 4 x 8 inches. I looked on the lower left side of my back, and there was another bruise about the size of a grapefruit. I also had a huge knot on my head. It took months for those bruises to finally disappear.

So what brought about this memory today? I was thinking about God's protection and then remembered what happened that day, just a few years ago, and how He protected my granddaughter. She'll be 6 years old this month. She's the spitting image of her mother in looks and in personality. She is an absolute joy--I love watching her little expressions and listening to her funny stories. She is hilarious.

And my God--the God that I love and serve--protected her. I am so thankful for that. It brings tears to my eyes when I think of how much worse that day could have been. And yet, because of His protection--she's just fine. She'll never remember that day, she'll never remember her grandma taking the fall, and that's OK with me. Just as long as she knows about Jesus--taking the fall for her--every day.