the tale of the ill-fated bike ride

 

 

It was an idyllic morning...

very early,

when Lucy and I set out to see the alligator in the lagoon.

Our ride had been pleasant,

uneventful.

 

On the turn to come home,

we were laughing.

I was telling her that Lindsey called alligators

alligingins when she was a little girl.

All of a sudden she turned right in front of me.

She had spotted a circular driveway that looked enticing.

 

When I hit the asphalt with a thud,

I knew it was bad.

I was on my hands and knees

with a huge amount of blood pooling beneath me.

 

Lucy was asking...

"Grammy, are you alright?"

I told her I wasn't sure.

I had not brought my phone.

We were in a secluded area.

 

I knew I had been knocked "ku ku."

I knew I was bleeding profusely,

but there didn't seem to be any broken bones.

A car finally passed,

I rose up to wave,

the driver only waved back and keep driving

even though my hoodie was soaked with blood.

 

It finally dawned on me

that I would have to get

 on my bike and ride back to the beach house.

 

By the grace of God

we made it!

It was truly supernatural strength

that enabled me to get to where help was.

No one could believe I had ridden all the way back home

in that condition.

 

"The steps of a man are established by the Lord,

and He delights in His way.

When he falls he shall not be hurled headlong;

because the Lord is the One who holds his hand."

Psalm 37: 23 & 24