It’s come up more than a coupla times this week.
In more than a few different ways.
Go ahead and fall down 99 times —
But get up a hundred.
I have to admit, I am pretty good at getting up. In fact, I’ve actually been told this more than a few times in my crash dummy life.
One pronouncement was even put to music — ode to me ‘tubthumping’ on the double blacks.
“You know what I love about you? —
“You get knocked down — but you get up again.”
Yes I do. Maybe a tiny bit worse for the wear, but always clutching a spangle.
I thank the God who put moxie in my veins — and my butt. Because it’s truly been my saving grace.
You know, the great thing about moxie is that it gets better with age.
Or maybe we just get better at stoking it.
When I was younger I possessed a sure-footedness I thought would never leave me. And that was probably true — if I would’ve made the comfort zone my lifetime residence.
But once I struck out, sure ‘nuf, I started falling. Hard.
And after the initial pain, most of it self-inflicted, ’twas moxie that got me up again. Helped me get to the joy in the recovery. And over time — seems like a long time —
Helped me arrive at the place today where —
I’d much rather die fallin than not tryin at all.