Like a root canal.
Or a colonoscopy.
Or getting underwear for Christmas.
A necessity that really wouldn't be the first pick outta the Wish Book.
If I had my druthers, I druther NOT have change.
Especially a sudden change of perspective.
A change of perspective means a change of view;
which means a change of position; which usually means a somewhat sudden and drastic movement on my part.
So I druther not have my perspective changed as it was yesterday afternoon.
Stupid scrap of paper.
Stupid chair with rollers.
Stupid gravity.
It all started innocently enough.
I noticed a lone scrap of paper under the desk by the computer tower.
Scooching backwards, I tried to reach the errant scrap while seated, leaning way forward to try and touch the ground.
And thaaaaaaat's when it happened.
The frictional co-efficient decreased as my weight went forward, thereby decreasing the adhesion of MY seat to THE seat which greatly enhanced the chair's ability for mobility.
Yep.
It's biscuit-bouncin' time for the Big Guy.
The chair shot out from under my pants, leaving me hanging.
For about a millisecond.
My co-workers heard the impact immediately.
Some got under their desks while others sat down in doorways.
Lotsa mass...BIG honkin' thud...
I laid there mentally checking favorite body parts while watching little swirly fireworks slowly dissipate towards the periphery of my vision.
Once my fellow employees realized there were no aftershocks, they started searching for the source.
"Hey, Den - you OK?"
"Yeah."
"Ya wanna get up."
"No. Not yet. Thanks."
"OK."
So they went back to work.
As I laid there watching their shoes and socks disappear, I realized that I haven't been in this position in a long time.
Wow. I was really getting locked into that whole "comfortably-sitting" perspective.
Really likin' that view.
Really likin' that position.
And this new view and position?
Not so much.
But the one thing that filled my sight was - up.
I could look up with no problem at all.
Yeah.
Ya know where I'm goin' with this, don'tcha?
He's never surprised by my rocketing ascents or my meteoric descents. He's there for both.
However, I seem to be much more attentive to His presence after that sudden, brief thud.
And after the little, swirly fireworks go away.
Thudding.
It's a heckuv an attention-getter.
So if it ever happens to me again, I'm gonna take my time getting up.
And while I'm down there I'll pay closer attention to what He wants to say and do in my life.
That is, once those little swirly things go away.