Fallen pride

I fell today. I fell down a couple of concrete steps, tore my jeans, skinned my knee, jammed my shoulder and wounded my pride.

Why is it so embarrassing to fall? Why is it when you fall down a couple of steps in an area with lots of business people and professional types you feel like such a loser? I wanted to just sit on my behind for a minute before picking myself up but instead hopped up quickly as if nothing happened hoping no one noticed.
And while I didn't hear anyone laughing hysterically at my clumsiness, there was no one to ask if I was okay either.

As I sit here still bothered by the pain in my swollen knee and aching shoulder, I wonder if I will tell my husband when he gets home later. Or will my wounded pride and embarrassed feeling keep this hidden inside. I also wonder if I tell him will he be the one to laugh or will he ask me if I am okay?

Then there is that quirky side of me that I get from my mom and is perpetuated by my husband that wonders ....

Was this some kind of sign or is there some hidden message in my clumsy, uncoordinated, inability to handle two simple concrete steps?

You see, I was leaving the parish office of St. Joseph's Church after picking up a job application. The parish is in need of a youth ministry coordinator for high school and middle school youth. A position that I know something about. Yet the one time I attended this parish it didn't seem to be my preference for a place to worship. So I am not sure how serious I am about this job opening. But I wanted more information.

After gathering the necessary paperwork, I shut the outer door and turned to close the iron gate that locked the parish staff securely in their office. I missed the first step, and fell.

Seeing this story retold here in the written page, I am no longering wondering, I am pretty sure my husband would laugh! He would prefer I not be employed anyway. And I am fairly certain he would consider this a sign from above that I shouldn't submit my application and resume'. :-)
Yes he would be laughing, and THEN he would ask me if I was okay.

I don't really see signs and get messages the way my mom does or the way my husband does. It is different for me.

I will admit that this incident will stick with me for a while, for at least as long as the pain does!