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What faith means to me [1]

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Date: 2023-02-18  

It's gonna hurt when you hit.

Christmas Eve one year, we went to friends’ house for some cheer. At the end of the evening, they loaded me up with a basket full of jars of pickles, packages of crackers and cheese, and a bottle of wine. We said goodbye on their snowy porch and I started down the stairs.

And slipped on the snowy top step and skipped all seven of the rest of them before hitting the ground at the bottom. No way I was letting that dear basket hit the ground, so I held on. And thus had nothing but my ribs to brace my fall.

Next thing I remember is I’m on my hands and knees gasping for a breath, any breath, and insisting, “No, I’m okay, I’m okay.” I got into the driver’s side and set off. After half a block I turned to my spouse. “Could you drive us now? And to the emergency room would be good.”

The ER was doing brisk business that night, kids who had pulled yule trees over on top of themselves, electric knife injuries, and one guy reading a magazine with a treble hook hanging from his scalp. When they finally got round to me and got x-rays, the doc said, “I bet that really hurts.” I nodded. “You broke six ribs. Nice compression fractures, every one. We think broken ribs might hurt as much as childbirth, but we’re not sure.”

There’s nothing much they can do for broken ribs except make sure your lung isn’t punctured. And send you home with drugs. Oxycodone, for me. (Which turned out mercifully not to have an effect on my pain, so after one pill, I got rid of them in favor of ibuprofen.)

Slept, what there was of sleep, sitting up on the couch.

Next day, the family we had visited came over, worried about how I was. They brought their eight-year-old daughter, Sam. She watched me with wide eyes while I assured them yes, I was all right, and no, I wasn’t thinking they were in any way liable.

They were getting ready to go before she spoke.

“You were in the air for a long time.”

I nodded. “Yes, I suppose I was.”

She thought for a moment. “Did you have fun?”

And there it was, my friends, faithful or not, out of the mouths of babes. Up in the air, knowing you’re going to hit, and what the hell, deciding to have fun. That’s faith to me. Having fun in the air.

In fact, I realized it was an anagram. Having Fun In The Air. Rearranged, FAITH.

And that’s all I know, and all I officially need to know.

Hoping you, too, are having fun, here, while you’re still in the air.

[END]
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