Entry FeedThis morning I was walking up the stairs with the breakfast dishes when I dropped a fork. I thought about leaving it on the stairs and picking it up later, but then I remembered last time I left a fork on the stairs.
The year was 2006. I had a 4 month old in my arms, and I was walking upstairs to change her. I noticed a fork, tines pointed up, on our hardwood stairs. I made a mental note to pick it up after I had changed the baby.
About a minute later I heard the loudest, "F@%K!!!!!" every. My husband had followed me up the stairs carrying a basket of laundry.
The fork actually stuck into the bottom of this foot, and came out the side. My husband is a tough guy. He sat down on the stairs swearing. The boys came running. It looked bad - really weird and scary, but sort of funny, too. He exhaled sharply a few times, grabbed the handle and yanked the fork out with a loud, "Ugh!"
There was surprising little blood for such an injury. He could wiggle all of he toes, so he seemed OK.
As he limped up the stairs, I couldn't help it. I started giggling. And then I laughed. I couldn't stop. The tears were coming down my cheeks. I am not sure why I laughed. I think it was because I had seen the fork there and not moved it. I felt guilty, but it also looked so terrible. If he had really been hurt, I wouldn't have found it amusing at all.
My laughing could have ended our marriage. That, and the fact that I had seen the fork there and left it there. Luckily my husband is a forgiving man.
I saw the fork lying on the stairs this morning, and I thought to myself, "What would Jesus do?" The answer came quickly. He would pick up the fork.
I picked up the fork.