Despite having iced my wrist a few times since I fell, it felt swollen and painful. Knowing that an ace wrap would make it feel better, I began searching through the bathroom cupboard. There was one in there somewhere.

Having finally found the elusive elastic wrap, I went to sit on the edge of my bed. Mindful to not wrap my wrist too tight, yet firmly enough to help curb the swelling and lend support, I carefully wound the ace bandage from the palm of my hand to the elbow. Although still painful, the support of the wrap did make my wrist feel better.

The cut on my scalp was another matter. I never thought to ice that after my fall. It hurt when I rested my head on the pillow. Sighing, I thought, “My wrist and head bump will eventually heal. It just takes time.

Thinking about healing set my mind off on an inventory of my past injuries. As a toddler, I fell headfirst off the side of the basement steps. Hitting my shoulder on the table Mom used as a place to clean eggs probably saved my life. A few years later I was walking rung to rung on a ladder in the haymow with the older kids. I missed a rung and fell face first, cutting my eyebrow open.

  As a teenager I fell headfirst off a wagon of bales. My head banged against a post that held the hay elevator in place. Then, one day while biking, the flip-flop on my right foot was wet, so when I applied pedal power, it slipped off. The broken pedal on my bike had an exposed piece of metal. It took a huge gouge out of the arch of my foot.

Even as an adult, I continued to have accidental injuries. In my kitchen I’ve sustained many burns, cuts, scratches, and bruises. Not only have I taken spectacular falls on ice, but I once fell down the stairs because of some stupid shoes.

I was already a grandma while biking in the rain on the Sparta trail when I fell off my bike. Taking a tumble didn’t worry me. I relaxed and let the fall happen. What I hadn’t realized was that my daughter Tammie was on her bike close behind me and had no chance to move my body out of her path. As her bike ran over my ribs, I looked up just and saw her flying over the bike’s handlebars.

Physical injuries leave scars, but mental hurts accumulated during a lifetime also leave scars. They are just not visible. As a young woman, when my baby girl died, I thought I was damaged for life. Fortunately, the Lord permits even that type of injury to subside and heal. But as the years go by, the amount of loss increases due to an ever-growing list of loved ones who die. Aging and surviving means we lose our companions, our younger more able selves, and the purpose we had earlier in life. This can be as painful as broken bones, or major surgery.

The fall I’d taken earlier in the day was upsetting. As a young woman I’d always wondered why older people were so prone to falling. Now I knew the answer. Having painful joints makes it hard to move gracefully. I’d tripped on the vacuum cord, and instead of doing a series of fancy footwork to save myself like I would have done as a younger person, I went down like a felled tree, landing on my left wrist and bashing my head against a dining room chair.

As I thought about all the hard knocks of my life, I concluded, “Thank you Lord for giving me a body that heals. Although growing old is a hard knock life, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m still learning, loving, and hoping.”