To Trip the Light Fantastic

Milton said it first in 1645:

Com, and trip it as ye go,

On the light fantastick toe.

It’s a phrase that’s been adapted, rewritten, and lyricized ever since. It makes the action sound graceful, like a prima ballerina en pointe, doing endless hops and delightful spins.

Not so much the scrambled actions of a lifelong klutz.

That would be me.

Before I was 10 I had done a header off a slide board, stepped backwards off a retaining wall, and been knocked out of the bed of a pickup by a baseball bat. At 13, a grand jete in my den turned into a permanently mangled right ankle. Which I broke on a backpacking trip 6 years later.

I cannot walk straight (I list to the left), my balance has always been off, and I’ve been known to trip over perfectly flat spots on the sidewalk. I sometimes tell people I’m obviously psychic; I’m tripping over cracks that will be there 10 years from now.

I own two pairs of crutches, a drawer full of Ace bandages, and enough ice packs for an NFL football team. I do not wear high heels.

My latest trip resulted in a box of packing peanuts sailing up to be tumbled and spread throughout two rooms by the ceiling fan.

Ya gotta laugh about something like this.

Y’see, while I will never be athletic or graceful or glide through a room like a dancer on silk-covered toes, my gifts lie elsewhere. In words. In a desire to help new writers or encourage established ones. In a faith that I seek to strengthen daily. In my belief in a God who lifts each of His children up in their own unique way—and a belief that He wants me to do the same.

Just don’t be surprised if I plow into you as I reach for your hand.