Pulling A Nail Part III

In a last ditch, primal effort to preserve life, I blindly plunged an outstretched hammer into anything that would save me from an untimely demise. With my eyes closed, preparing to embrace the impact of the ground, my hammer caught hold of the rooftop. Cheers and gasps cut through the howling winds as I kept my eyes shut tightly. I looked up at my outstretched hand that squeezed the rubberized body of my hammer and the twin shaved marks on the roof that the claw portion of my hammer dug into the plywood as I screeched to a halt. I choked and strained to keep all of my weight as centered as possible, failing to fully realize how close I was to certain pain and injury. Panic still flooded my mind and the adrenaline kept my hands trembling, but I was spared the brunt impact of the muddy ground below and was left dangling in the cold Midwestern air.
As my classmates rushed into the second story room to help me into the house, I was greeted with faces of amazement. They cheered my attempt at the nail and were astounded by my ability to react so quickly to utilize the tool at my disposal. Had I been ill positioned to make such a daring strike, I doubt I would be able to transcribe this story for you today. As I caught my breath, one classmate thrust the bent and rusty nail into my hand, the same one that had fallen to the muddy earth, which I gazed at for a long time. I guess I didn’t realize it then, but that little nail would resurface in my life at times of great fear. It served as a talisman of sorts with which I could remember the efforts of previous bouts of courage as a way of urging me forward through times of trial.
It is the reason I have less fear today, as I type this story at ten thousand feet in the air, from the relative discomfort of my first airline trip. Years ago I feared flying in planes for the same reasons I feared the tops of ladders, but today I find myself able to face the very thing that has restricted my migration to the far reaches of our planet. I no longer skirt from that which fills my mind with discomfort, but rather push forward through my mental trials, equipped with a heart set for adventure, confident in my own abilities regardless of the bleak situations within which I place myself from time to time. At all moments of my day, however, I find security in the little rusty nail that pokes my thigh from inside of my pocket as I face the challenges of each day without fear.

March, 2011