"He Will Not Let Me Fa-a-a-ll"

The year was 1992. Our calling, Improbable People Ministries, was in its infancy and daughter Dusty, at three, was just a bit older. The three of us—Sally, myself and Dusty Rose—were traveling the Eastern seaboard from Los Angeles in our faithful Toyota mini-van, Rosie.

 

We had traveled so far north at one juncture we left the country and headed for Toronto where a service at a Christian college awaited. 

 

Dad & Dusty clown around in Provincetown

 

One evening, while ensconced in Canada, Dusty and I found ourselves all alone in the motel room. Sally had gone for food while Dusty and I held down the fort. I was reading a book as I recall, and Dusty was practicing a high-wire act along the six-foot counter that enveloped the bathroom sink.

 

Dusty was in a particularly good mood that evening. She was singing one of her favorite songs: 

 

"He will no let me fa-a-a-l

He will not let me fall

I put my faith in Jesus

For He will not let me fall."

 

The innocence was precious to watch and I found myself smiling at the sight on this circus performer tentatively moving across the counter's edge while singing her lofty hymn. She made two more passes, pivoting  ever-so-delicately each time, returning the way she'd come.

 

"He will not let me f-a-a-a-ll. "

 

 

But suddenly, without a bit of warning, Dusty slipped from her wire and fell two and a half feet to the shag rug below. This was not enough to hurt my daughter who landed on her natural padding—but caused just enough of a plop to shock the system and wound the soul.

 

"Daddy!" she called, with great crocodile tears welling in her eyes,

 

I jumped to Dusty's side to console her and check for broken skin.

 

"Daddy!" she called again as I was racing to her fallen figure.

 

"What is it, Dusty? Are you ok?"

 

"Daddy," she finally managed through free flowing tears and circumstances she could barely believe, "Daddy, He LET me FALL!!!!!!"

 

It was all I could do not to break out laughing, though that is exactly what I do with every retelling of this story through the years. 

 

Dusty had such a faith at three she truly believed the words she was singing. She believed Jesus was her safety net and, perhaps unwisely, let down her guard to be taken by that old demon, Gravity.

 

Would that we could all go back to such a time and be so guileless.

 

 

 

"Oh, the dreams of our youth—how beautiful they are. And how perishable!"  --Mark Twain