Not for the faint of heart...or stomach.

Wanna hear a cool/gross story? Just a warning...it's a long story.

So, yesterday morning I woke up feeling fairly sick to my stomach and I fought the feeling all morning long as I continued to get ready for work. Somehow I could already sense an "off" day coming, but I just can't leave those cute little ones to themselves...also, I gotta pay bills.

Anyway, I try to shove a bit of breakfast down my throat, and surprisingly, it really helped. I got my things together and headed out the door. On the last step, I tripped...lost my balance...and very un-gracefully clamored to the ground, sending the contents of my huge bag flying.

I could not even look down at my knee for a few minutes because it truly hurt SO bad. I have a pretty high pain threshold, but the tears just automatically began to flow without my permission, and I immediately began feeling nauseated again and could feel my face going completely white. I've never broken anything in my life...I thought that's what had happened. So, I just sat there for a bit (what seemed like half an hour) in the middle of my front yard on the busiest street in my neighborhood...awesome. Finally, I mustered up the courage and looked down at my right knee (the one that had already been giving me tons of trouble) and found lots of rich, red blood just pouring down my shins into my shoes. Amazingly enough, I did not give up my breakfast.

Instead, I just bravely got up, left everything from my back laying all over the yard (nothing too valuable) and very slowly hobbled back into the house. Did I forget to mention that my husband has been outta town? Great. So, I take a few moments to sit it out on the couch, and I call my two bosses to tell them that I'm gonna be a little late and explain why and apologize profusely. Then, I get up and gently clean out the GASH taken outta my knee. And I very painfully, very slowly continue on my way to work.

Now, doesn't that sound like such a nice place to end a story like that? Well, fortunately for those of you who rather enjoy the pain and suffering of others...it does not end there. On no, my friends. My day continues on. Complete with 2 very adorable (and independent-spirited) three-year-olds and a kitten.

So, just a little before lunch time, the three of us were outside playing a game I like to call, "Frisbee Fetch." Coming from my own imagination, it's truly an ingenious game, perfect for the purpose of absolutely wearing out a couple of toddlers before nap time. I throw these frisbee-like discs all over the backyard and it's a race to see who can collect the most. Well, though it's not at all part of the game, they both enjoy standing up on the 2ft. high brick wall separating the patio from the yard. They also enjoy dancing around on it.

And that's just what they were doing when my precious Jack lost his balance and fell into the HUGE granite patio table. My heart absolutely stopped. At first, he didn't make a sound...it's amazing how many of the worst things you can think of in a split second. Then, (THANK YOU, JESUS!) he started screaming beyond the top of his lungs. I went to pick him up and saw the blood gushing from his mouth. Y'all, little kids bleed A LOT! (I warned you in the title...not for the weak.) I thankfully remain calm and take him inside to start the clean-up, calm-down process.

What I need for you to know is that the written word cannot even begin to do justice to what all occurred in the next 15 minutes, but I'll give you a clue or two. It involves me yelling at the other sweet little girl to "get outta the house and just stay outside for a while...no, it's not lunchtime right now and i have no clue where the kitten is!" I will NOT admit to maybe locking the door so she couldn't come back in for a minute.

So here I am, hobbling around on my own bruised and bloodied knee, trying to get this screaming kid cleaned up when I hear him start actually saying words to me. I can't understand him. He's screaming-crying and has a mouth full of blood. Finally, I figure out that he's telling me that he needs to go potty. So, upon lifting him up off the kitchen counter where I've been playing doctor, I feel a few droplets hit my toes. Then the flood gates opened...all over the kitchen floor...and all over me.

Poor guy. My heart just broke for my sweet little Jack. He wasn't even phased anymore by the scraped up chin or by the fact that he had bitten THROUGH his bottom lip. He was just so embarrassed and upset that he had wet pants.

You know what? I'm just gonna go ahead and stop right there. Yes, unfortunately there is MUCH more to this absolutely horrific and bloody day...if you can even imagine. But the point is, that even through all this, there was something in me that just kept laughing...after all the tears, of course. I guess, when it came down to it, I never once had to call 911. And though ALL of us got pretty banged up in some form or fashion yesterday, we all remained alive and mostly still functioning. I guess it just kinda made me think about my life lately.

The enemy is gonna try to knock me down. He's gonna give me wounds (metaphorically and literally), but he's most certainly not gonna have defeat over my life. I won't let him. And neither will CHRIST. I may walk away with a bloody knee and a bruised spirit, but I'm gonna get up and walk away. And I'm gonna walk right into the arms of the ONE whose hands will heal my wounds. The LORD gave me strength and grace to make it til the end of that day and HE'll give my joy and wisdom for this day.