Church On The Rock Homer

I fell and hit my head last night. I took my two younger kids out to the homestead to do some evening dolly fishing. We parked the truck, grabbed a couple rods and a bottle of mosquito dope, and hiked up the trail to our favorite fishing spot. As I was walking along the trail, three fishing rods in my hand, I tripped on a root and fell forward. My forehead made contact with another root jutting out of the ground in front of me. Typically when I fall, I try to slow down before my forehead makes contact with the ground. This time, I tried something new. It really hurt. Once I was back on my feet and had regathered the many items in my hands, head spinning, we continued our walk. My five year old, who is the cutest ever, took it upon herself to point out and warn me about every subsequent root on the trail. “Daddy, look out, here is another root. Make sure you step over it.” Somehow I felt both cared for and condescended to. In the midst of the evident work of God that is happening right now at Churc