During an overseas cycling trip last year, riding out of a small village with two other cyclists, I saw a white line on the road that I thought marked the bike lane, but instead it was a small curb. At about fifteen miles per hour, I went flying off the bike and bounced along a wall and sidewalk. I always wear a helmet when I ride. I did not lose consciousness, but instead was soon sitting up on the curb.
My first thought was that I was surrounded by divine Love. I understood God, divine Love, to be ever-present and all around. I felt this manifested in the concern for my welfare expressed by the other two riders, but even more so in acknowledging the fact that the physical picture did not show forth the truth of my identity as an ever cared-for idea of God.
The most visible injury was to my knee. Just as I looked at it, I saw a man walking toward me from across the street. He said he worked in the community center building and had seen me fall. He said he had recently had first aid training and asked if I would like him to bandage my knee. I said, “Sure,” and thanked him.
