I was 18 or 19, and had recently learned to rollerblade. My friends and I would rollerblade through the empty halls of the college buildings where we were students and worked part-time. There was one building in particular that we liked rollerblading in because it had a ramp. We also enjoyed skating around campus, becoming brave on small hills.

Mark’s parents and mine lived two doors apart at that time, and I was at his house one afternoon. I was excited about my new hobby, so his little sister and I decided to rollerblade in the street and the neighbors’ driveways. Looking back, it was quite a ridiculous idea since we lived on a steep hill. But we thought we’d rollerblade from driveway to driveway without injury. We started out going slightly uphill to the neighbor’s driveway across the street from Mark’s house. We rolled around for a couple of minutes before I decided to go downhill to another neighbor’s driveway. Unfortunately, I wasn’t prepared for the speed I picked up going downhill.

As I left one driveway and rolled downhill towards the next, I realized I was going way too fast to be able to stop myself without breaking my neck. I remember screaming just before hitting the second driveway, and looking to my left where Mark’s dad stood in his doorway, yelling for Mark to come look. I veered to the left, making it into the second driveway, but knew I couldn’t stop before splattering myself against the house. So I quickly veered to the right into the yard, which sent me flying in the air. I don’t remember exactly how many times I flipped before landing, sprawled across the grass. I was a little dazed, but was able to stand up and make it back up the hill.

Surprisingly, I didn’t break any bones, nor injure myself. I gave Mark, his dad and his sister quite the scare, but once they realized I was okay, they had a great laugh at my expense.

Mark reminded me of that story last night, and we laughed about it all over again. It’s, no doubt, a story we’ll tell our grandkids!

Hours after we’d laughed about it once again, I kept thinking about that experience. I thought about the uphill climb and the speedy descent downhill. At the time, all I wanted to do was roll around on my merry little way. I didn’t give thought to the effort it would take to go uphill, nor the disaster I was inviting by going downhill.

 . . . . . . . . . .

You had an end goal in mind. It was an uphill climb to get to where you wanted to be, but you made it. But as you stood atop the hill, you looked around, and you weren’t content.

You never knew one little choice would snowball in a downward motion, leaving you flat on your face, wondering how you could’ve possibly made such a mess of things.

Can I give you a little hope from someone who’s been there {and not just on rollerblades!}?

Get up. Stand back up. Give yourself some grace. Then, accept it…from God and from those in your life who will give it. Focus on finding your footing. Make the climb back up the hill. Pay no attention to those who find pleasure at your expense. Realize you didn’t make the smartest choices, learn from them, and move on.

While you feel as though you’ve made a disaster of your life, this is merely a moment in time.

One day, you’ll look back and understand that you are wiser and stronger because of your fall. You might even find that those who gained pleasure at your expense need to benefit from your experience.

Get up. Take one step after another in the right direction. Speed doesn’t matter. Just be willing to find joy and purpose in the journey.