Men Don't Fly Like Birds

*Note to readers: since my readership seemed to take pleasure in my last painful episode, here's another injury that happened a few months before my broken shoulder. Enjoy!

At 2:41 PM on Sunday, March 13, 2016, something happened that I’d rather forget. The sky was overcast, but, it was not raining. We were having church fellowship at the Dyer Community Building in Dyer, AR. All the kids were playing outside, the parents were conversing, but, one action stopped everyone dead in their tracks.  

The Community building had a swing set just outside the building. I climbed into one of the swings and began pre-flight routines. My brothers and I had been videotaping each other as we jumped from the swings. I recruited my younger brother, Stephen, to do a slow-motion video of me jumping. 

I told Stephen not to start recording until I reached a height that I deemed high enough. I figured that when I was at the highest point in my swing if I could see over the top bar of the swing set, that’s when I would tell Stephen that I’m ready. When I reached that point I told him to start recording. He nodded and told me to swing a few times more so the video wouldn’t cut out any of my jump. I swung up, then I swung down, and then back up again. 

On my way back up a kid decided to jump. While I was descending he decided to run in front of me right before I reached him. I wasn’t paying much attention to him, because all my attention was focused on the jump ahead. He made it by safely, right as I launched. 

I soared through the air, reaching the meridian of my flight. But, it wasn’t joyful, not at all. On the way down I noticed a major blunder on my part and braced myself for the consequences.  

My blunder was that wanted to slide a little bit when I hit the ground, so, I tilted my feet back. But, without intending to, I tilted them too far. Now, I was falling from no less than ten feet, and the position I was in was not a very good position. I fell on my side, knocking the wind completely out of me. A group of people quickly formed around me. My dad asked if were okay. 

“I’m fine…just… need…to get my…breath… back.” I gasped. 

In a few minutes I regained my feet no worse for wear.

I thank God that no bones were broken. All the after-effects were just minor pains and aches that lasted a week or two and a deflated pride. I know it could’ve been a lot worse, but God saw it fit to protect me from my own stupidity.