I'm usurping titles again (this time it's our minister's, who entitled his sermon Sunrise Suprise). But it seemed appropriate. Because my Easter took a surprising turn (forgive the pun, which you'll understand in a moment) this morning as I was walking down the hallway at church, deep in conversation with one of my friends, when I felt my (pink high heel clad) foot slip (on the over zealously buffed tile floor). In order to prevent a total fall to the ground, I managed a quick contorted manuever, grabbing onto the bookshelf, and landed solidly on the side of my left foot.

Ouch! A sharp, ice pick type pain in my foot, followed by a wave of nausea -whoa!

All kinds of people streaming past, smiling, greeting one another - wait! My friend is still talking - she hasn't noticed yet - oh! - I think I need to sit down.

Okay...maybe it's not so bad. A few minutes in a chair - yes, I think I can stand. It's alright (I think).

So, the ~~show~~ service goes on. I stand up through all the usual Easter musical hoopla - four or five hymns, the Hallelujah Chorus, two handbell pieces. I stand around talking to another friend (who is on crutches because she broke her foot four weeks ago!!) and finally limp my way out to the car.

We come home, have a nice breakfast (courtesy of my mother, who is of course extremely concerned) because by now I'm limping quite noticeably, and there is a rather Easter eggish sized lump forming on the top of my foot.

"You need to have that X-rayed," she tells me.

I know she's right. She's always right when it comes to things like this.

But I procrastinate. Because I'm making dinner today - it's already made, as a matter of fact, just ready to go into the oven. So we go home, and I set the table, and enlist Jim's help (for a change!) and everything turns out fine, except that by the end of the meal, the Easter eggish lump on my foot is now a baseball sized lump on my foot, and it hurts like hell!

Well, s&*#, f^%*, and d"*#.

Rest of the story in a nutshell.

Emergency room.

Fracture.

Splint.

Crutches.

Six weeks.

Easter Surprise.