Bruised

Woke up very early, way before dawn, moved by aches all over. In part, this is to be expected, for I have weak bones. In part, a bit shocking, because all I did was trip on a void in the pavement, unseen in the dark, finding myself facedown on the ground.

In the morning, on their way to school, the kids were still laughing at my misfortune. “We’re not laughing that you fell,” insisted my daughter, “just at the way you went, ‘Sh…’ and nearly swore.” I tried to convince them that I was going to say, “Sh…elagh Fogarty needs to do a show about the state of our footpaths!” Unconvinced, they giggled on.

Despite the bruises that have appeared all over, perhaps what really took a battering was my ego. Sometimes we have to be brought low to counteract our proud sense of self-importance. Sometimes we have to be reminded who we really are. My sore hands and wrists as I type this serve to remind me of what happens to the haughty, who forget to walk on the earth with humility. May our Lord make us of those so described:

And the servants of the Most Merciful are those who walk humbly on the earth, who when the foolish address them reply, “Peace!”

Quran 25:63

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