It’s not really an anniversary or a holiday, but December 5 is always sort of circled on my calendar.
I call it Falling Day because on December 5, 1987, I fell 9 feet and my life changed.
Falling Day used to be an occasion for sadness and regret. I’d kind of try to ignore it, which was impossible and only highlighted the misery.
After 35 years, the sadness hasn’t completely disappeared. It’s impossible to avoid wondering how many tiny moves one way or the other might have made that Saturday a very different day.
But these days, Falling Day is more of an opportunity to be grateful.
I’m grateful for those who refused to allow me to give up when that’s all I wanted, those who remained my friends when I wasn’t especially friendly. I’m grateful for the people who helped me start handcycling. I’m grateful for the students who taught me so much.
Falling Day reminds me of the remarkable community that’s come together to create the FREEDOM TOUR. Nearly 1000 cyclists, hundreds of volunteers, more than $350,000 donated to the kids at the Home of Hope.
We like to create idealized Norman Rockwell images of holidays, but in real life they often come with some mixture of joy and sorrow. The trick, I think, is to accept the sorrow as a normal, valued part of the celebration.
Falling Day is its own thing, a unique mixture of all the emotions that come with recalling a life-altering moment as well as its aftermath. It’s a reminder to thank Jesus for His constant presence.
I am NOT grateful for falling. I am grateful for the ability to reflect on and learn from Falling Day.
Confusing? Real life.