SHEE KWAH SAH

Sheesh; some people do anything just to get a fun blog!

It finally looked like it would be a cool morning, so I told Kinya I'd step out for a walk at 4:30 a.m., stuffing my pockets with pocket camera & cellphone, coin purse and house key. With a quick brushing of my teeth and hair, I left.

It couldn't have been nicer, wasn't too hot or too cold, and there was just enough movement out to let you know it was the beginning of a new day without being spooky. I'd decided to treat myself to a vending machine pet bottle drink and was turning up the walk to go home when my foot caught on the asphalt crack...

SLAM! I hit myself full face on the concrete, and my nose began to bleed. There was no one around to help that early in the morning--I was walking home around 5 a.m.--I found myself praying out loud for help then saying "excuse me" to no one in particular and whipping off my denim skirt to press against my nose (I wasn't stripping; I'd merely wrapped it on top of my nightwear to have a more presentable silhouette when walking outdoors so was still fully dressed.) The vending machine drink was the perfect temperature to act like an ice pack against my nose. (I'm sure makers of vending machines, when thinking of meeting customers' cooling needs, never had this in mind!)

My glasses--one of the lenses had popped out of the frame on impact--was spattered with blood. I put it all in the pocket and hobbled home, discovering I must've hit my left knee hard, and during the time I tended to my bloodied nose, it seems to have worsened--I could not put weight on it. Perhaps the most maddening part of the whole thing was that when I finally got to the house, I could not even work my way inside! The slightest wrong movement placing weight on the injured knee made me recoil in pain.

My son came to the door when he heard me calling and helped me in. Kinya cleaned my glasses for me, found the aluminum walker my Mom used to use for me to get around in (I didn't think I'd need it for a few more years yet; but now it feels like heaven), and has taken my bloodied jeans skirt to the washing machine, checking all the pockets for me.

"Show me a sign," I prayed, "that You Are Good."  When life hands you lemons, those who do not know God say stiff upper-lipped, "make lemonade;" but I think we know better. WE know the Creator Who made the lemons, the Creator Who made those who hand them out, the Creator Who knows how to make lemons sweet, Who can turn even early morning spills and nasty bloody noses into blessing.  WE know a Creator who makes beauty from ashes. He doeth all things well.

Have a nice day.

P.S.: (This addition is being made several minutes after the above was posted. The vending drink I used as an ice pack held against the bridge of my nose while I hobbled home was made from "Shi-kua-sa", a variety of Okinawan Lime. I guess you could say God had "made lemonade" for me after all!)