I'm Okay

I said I would tell you about my great fall of 2007, so here it goes:

Selah had a show in Charlotte, North Carolina. The church was huge, it was actually a K-12 school as well as a church and the sanctuary was rather far from where our dressing rooms were. We had to walk around the back, then down a steep flight of stairs. Throughout the evening we made our way back and forth, back and forth, no problem. There is a point in our concerts when Allan does a “solo” piece, and Todd and I leave the stage. Todd went to the restroom, and I went down the steep tile stairs alone, in my 3½ inch Carlos Santana sling backs. I felt very cute, wearing black slacks, a little black top and white fuzzy sweater shawl that I got at Old Navy and had already torn the tags off when I realized the reason it fit so well was because it was maternity (sad face) and my Carlos Santana shoes. As I embarked down the stairs, which were roughly 15-17 stairs deep with a little platform that at a right angle led to another flight of stairs about 7-9 deep, I thought to myself, “I could fall down these stairs and die because no one would find me!” So, I grabbed tightly to the rail and slowly made my way down, successfully.

After the concert we came back downstairs, then back upstairs for autographs, but it wasn’t until the final trip down the stairs that my ability to walk upright failed me. Todd, Allan, our road manager Shawn and I were laughing as we approached the staircase, about what I do not recall. I thought to myself, “I had better grab the…”, and then it happened. Todd describes it as looking like I purposely dove headfirst attempting a perfect 10, Shawn describes it as purely shocking, and Allan can’t describe it at all because he could barely inhale before I descended the stairs, headfirst. Luckily my right arm was extended because I was reaching for the railing, so I put it out in front of me to block the blows, but not in time to keep my chin from smacking on the tile stair. Snap! My head flew back and in that moment all I could think was, “Hold your head back so you don’t break your teeth!” As I made my way down the stairs at what seemed like slow motion and lightning speed at the same time, I realized that the boys were screaming. I wanted them to know that I was okay. So as I belly-flopped my way down the stairs with my head arched back and my right arm leading the way, I shouted, “I’M OKAY, I’M OKAY, I’M OKAY,” all the way down. When I finally landed at the little platform below I quickly tried to push myself up before the boys could get to me, and with a failed attempt at getting up, which looked more like a pathetic push up, I uttered on last, “I’m okay” and plopped my face down on my extended arms. “No you’re not,” said Todd and he took my right arm and Shawn took my left arm to pull me up. Now, you must be wondering what’s the first thing I said when I stood up. I said three things, in this very order.

“My SHOE!!” You see, my Carlos Santana shoe was the cause of it all. The right heel had caught in a broken piece of tile and as I flew out of it, it stayed behind at the top of the stairs. When I turned to look for it, I’ll never forget what I saw. Allan Hall still at the top of the stairs with the most shocked expression on his face, mouth agape holding by its strap, my one Carlos Santana shoe. “It’s all I could think to do,” he said.


“My GUT!” I said this, not because my gut hurt from the massive trip it took down the stairs protecting my inner organs from injury, but because on the trip down my cute black pants had made their way down below the “muffin top” I try so hard to cover up, and the little black top had made its way up under my bra strap, and there, in all it’s plus size glory my gut hung out of my clothes for all the boys to see.

“I’m okay, really” trying to convince myself probably more than anyone else. It turns out my gut did protect me from injury. I had 2 CT scans, and an X-Ray, and other than some huge disgusting bruises all over my body, there was nothing wrong with me. It took me a while to recover I still have a knot in my upper thigh, traumatized muscle they call it, to always remind me to hold the railing while walking down stairs. This story has become one of “best of” Selah stories we like to tell when we’re sitting around with new people. But politely the boys always skip over the part where I bared my belly to them. Sadly, that is the most embarrassing part of the story for me.

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