GET UP AND TRY AGAIN
My great aunties were sitting on the front porch in a suspended swinging bench, swaying slightly back and forth , while I, then a tiny tyke aged 3, rode my faithful tricycle up and down the rutted sidewalk in front of my great-grand-daddy's Canton, Mississippi home, before their adoring eyes.
Life was very good as I giggled, whirled and pumped away on my bike that bright sunny day.
Suddenly, somehow I had wrongly hit a rut and then tumbled from my tricycle onto the ground!
More in protest than in pain, I cried, wailed, kicked and screamed, confident that at any moment my adoring aunties would rush from their shaded seats on that suspended porch swing and come to my aid !
Imagine my great surprise when, despite my wailed protests about the injustice and unfairness of my fall from my tricycle , nobody came to pick me up, dust me off, or kiss away my grief!No, not one. Instead, still swaying, they sang almost in near-harmony these words:
"GET UP AND TRY IT AGAIN. GET UP AND TRY IT AGAIN."
Hearing but not quite believing that no one would come, I cried even more--this time at them--rather than about my fall. Still they swayed and swang as though they knew something that it was time for me to learn.
Soon growing tired of crying, and still desirous of the thrill of the ride, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, got back on my tricycle, and kept right on riding!
Moral:
When life's ruts make you fall onto the ground, get up; dust yourself off; and try it again! Riding is always more fun than crying!
Monday, September 28, 2015
GET UP AND TRY IT AGAIN
GET UP AND TRY AGAIN
My great aunties were sitting on the front porch in a suspended swinging bench, swaying slightly back and forth , while I, then a tiny tyke aged 3, rode my faithful tricycle up and down the rutted sidewalk in front of my great-grand-daddy's Canton, Mississippi home, before their adoring eyes.
Life was very good as I giggled, whirled and pumped away on my bike that bright sunny day.
Suddenly, somehow I had wrongly hit a rut and then tumbled from my tricycle onto the ground!
More in protest than in pain, I cried, wailed, kicked and screamed, confident that at any moment my adoring aunties would rush from their shaded seats on that suspended porch swing and come to my aid !
Imagine my great surprise when, despite my wailed protests about the injustice and unfairness of my fall from my tricycle , nobody came to pick me up, dust me off, or kiss away my grief!No, not one. Instead, still swaying, they sang almost in near-harmony these words:
"GET UP AND TRY IT AGAIN. GET UP AND TRY IT AGAIN."
Hearing but not quite believing that no one would come, I cried even more--this time at them--rather than about my fall. Still they swayed and swang as though they knew something that it was time for me to learn.
Soon growing tired of crying, and still desirous of the thrill of the ride, I picked myself up, dusted myself off, got back on my tricycle, and kept right on riding!
Moral:
When life's ruts make you fall onto the ground, get up; dust yourself off; and try it again! Riding is always more fun than crying!