Normally my late night walk with Jack is a pleasure. We usually head out before midnight, but last night the clock got ahead of our intentions, and it was after 1:00 am. I looked at Jack, wondering if he could “hold it” till morning but couldn’t resist his pleading eyes and wagging tail.

“OK,” I said, “but just a short one.”

Since no one else would be out dog-walking at that hour, I left Jack’s leash at home so he could enjoy romping in the woods along our way. Plugging in my ear buds, I clicked on Michael Buble’s playlist, and we were off.

The lively “Haven’t Met You Yet” came on, causing me to pick up the pace to match the beat when without warning my foot smashed full force into something that sent me sailing parallel to the road. Before I hit the pavement, I knew what it was:

a speed bump.

Our neighborhood is nearly empty 9 months of the year but becomes a busy beach community in the summer. So in June, half-a-dozen portable speed bumps come out of storage to slow the increased traffic, and I’m usually tuned in to their familiar locations. Last night was the odd exception.

Although I’d forgotten a flashlight on a pitch black night, my ipod could have served the same purpose and prevented some painful road rash. Hitting the asphalt with one knee followed by the other, then both palms, the tops of my toes, and cheek, my first thought was, “I’ll bet I tore through my new capri’s.”

As is true for all of us after we’ve had an accident, I wish I had a video of the mishap, but I knew the next day would bring a body-summary of what actually occurred. This morning God guided me in how to properly take inventory:

• Though my hands are skinned, I didn’t break a wrist.
• Though my knee is cut, I didn’t break a knee cap.
• Though my foot is twisted, I didn’t break the bones.
• Though my toes feel rug-burned, I didn’t break a toe.
• Though my back hurts, I didn’t break a vertebra.
• Though my rib cage hurts, I didn’t break a rib.
• Though my head aches, I didn’t get a concussion.

God began my day by highlighting 7 blessings. As I gingerly crawled out of bed wondering how I’d ever get all the blood out of my new capri’s (and pajama pants), I thought maybe God had let me take my spill just to give me a fresh opportunity to count blessings.

If so, it worked.

He even gave me an 8th. When I hit the ground, my ipod and Michael Buble’ flew out of my pocket and somersaulted down the road. And wouldn’t you know, as it hit, the screen lit up, nicely illuminating the speed bump.

Blessing #8:

• Though my ipod took a hit, it didn’t break.

Actually, as I hooked it up again, Michael Buble’ was still singing the same song, completely unfazed by my bump in the night.

“My cup overflows with blessings.” (Psalm 23:5)