fall is here, folks. i’d rather refer to it as autumn, but this year the word “fall” seems more metaphorically appropriate. the last week has been rough. and it makes me think of a couple of times i seriously feared for my life while playing with the Garritys up on the cliffs of the Puget Sound shoreline. we would leave Mom and Mrs. Garrity sipping tea in the kitchen, while the whole pack of us (eight kids under the age of ten) scrambled down the driftwood steps to the beach. and then we’d throw seaweed at each other, and try to skip rocks, and stomp around on the sand trying to get clams to squirt water up from their little burrows. entertaining enough, of course, but the real fun started when we remembered that our favourite thing ever was to play capture the flag. and we’d run down the beach shrieking about who was going to be on which team until we got to one particular driftwood log that lay like a gangplank, one end on sand and one end up on the clay embankment. then we clambered up it single file, scrambling up the cliff by means of a little path, which would probably be quite difficult for my twenty-two-year-old eyes to discern but was as distinct as a freeway to my ten-year-old vision. a few minutes would undoubtedly be spent coaxing the little ones that they “could do it”, and finally we’d all be up among the trees, surveying the omniscient grey ocean and feeling like we’d quite inherited the earth.

and then the melee started. i remember sprinting down little paths and pushing off from tree trunks to get a little leverage around the corners. and whispering about plans at the secret base. and literally wrestling each other in the fierce and frequent battles over territory. but i especially remember dashing through the bracken with blatant disregard for the trail, my heart thumping in my chest as i clutched the opposing team’s “flag”, and then all in one horrible second, leaping over a fern only to find no ground on the other side. i windmilled for half a moment, and then my feet hit clay, and i dug my heels in and lurched down the cliff, grasping at tree trunks and plants and anything to stop. and suddenly my right foot hit a rock and i splatted on my back and lay there, clutching torn-up grass and weeds in both hands, and wondering how the ambulance would get up there to rescue me.

but as i lay there, i realized (with a twinge of disappointment) that an ambulance probably was not necessary. and i slowly un-squinched my eyes and watched the branches move overhead, and thought how good it was to be alive.

that’s a fall. and this week, i’ve re-enacted it the grown-up way. my injections competency last week? fantastic, except that i recapped a needle without even thinking about it, and automatically failed the entire thing. and my head/eye/ear/neck/throat competency on tuesday? just as fantastic, except that i forgot to ask whether my mock patient wore glasses, forgot to palpate the sinuses, and forgot to perform three hearing tests. automatic fail. which i realized as soon as i had said “thank you!” and escorted my mock patient to the door. the day before, i redid the injections competency and received full credit, but all that relief vaporized, and i windmilled and lurched until wednesday.

but now, i’m alright. there’s a difference between failing something and being a failure. there’s a choice between utter humiliation at being seen by my profs as someone who doesn’t prepare adequately or doesn’t care, and humble resolve to prepare better next time. and there’s a question of what God wants to speak to my heart, and maybe of why it took something so personally unacceptable for Him to get my attention. and as i said before, it’s fall. today i’m snug in my cerulean sweater from galway, and on my way downtown for my second-to-last shift at amazon the leaves crunched under my feet. and i’ve been filling my ears with sweet truths. in Christ alone, my hope is found – He is my light, my strength, my song. unresting, unhasting, and silent as light, nor wanting, nor wasting, Thou rulest in might. praise the name of Jesus – He’s my rock, He’s my fortress, in Him will i trust.

it’s starting to feel like autumn.