Once upon a time there was a woman walking
across a lawn to the doorway of her home.
As she walked, she held up the new dress she
had just bought to admire its beauty.
With her mind focused upon the great buy and
her feet moving in total blindness, she found
herself in pain from head to blind toe lying
on top of her new dress at the concrete stoop
in front of the entry door.

It was a lovely Spring day, a Saturday in April,
the day before Easter, when she slowly and
most embarrassingly pulled herself up by holding
on to the knob of the door to the hiding place--
the indoors. She looked around and not one person
did she see. She was safe. But wait. Things were
turning red and running down arms, legs, and dripping
off her chin.

Scrapes! Booboos! SCARS!

'Good Lord Almighty,' she thought as she pictured
the look of her on Easter Sunday with not a beautiful
corsage, but bandages on knees, elbows, forehead, and lips.
This alone was enough to send her to the brink until--
until she noticed the fresh blood spattered and stained on the
Ivory pearled dress. With that, she made her way into
the bedroom and closed the door. 

As the sun rose on Easter morn, the woman lay  
in bed with a chipped tooth, a swollen lip, stiff legs
and arms, and the headache from Hell. It seems there
would not be a resurrection morning for her, let alone the
appearance of this poor soul at church.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Is there a moral to this story? If so, what is it?
I would love to see your ideas so please give a thought
and write the moral as you see it. : ) thanks kathy