There are days when you stumble… and then there are days when you stumble upon a trinket from your past. 

Our experience of the two isn’t dissimilar: 

It breaks our flow; the forward movement toward something else we desire. We feel flush with excitement, shame, or something in-between. Our breathing shifts, our minds uncontrollably leap forward and backward, trying to make sense of the situation before finally coming to rest in the present moment. We pause. We sit in disbelief as we slow down and catch our breath; it deepens, and we become calm.

Stumbling is a moment of learning and growth.

I’ve stumbled numerous times on my training runs and rides…sometimes catching myself before going down, and sometimes not. The scars on my knees tell the real story.

A few days ago, I stumbled again. But this time, I stumbled upon two little books buried in the bottom corner of a box that I was ransacking while scrambling to find my husband’s Virginia Tech diploma. A quick glance, smile, and recognition of a time gone by… and off I went on my pursuit.

And as quickly as it happens, I push forward and forget it.

Days later, I opened the closet in my office to find these small reminders laying face up on the floor. This time, without any thought, I scooped them up and plopped myself on the floor. I felt my story emerge. My gaze fell to the covers. The dates 1995 and 1996 stared back at me.

It isn’t the books that matter, it’s the connection to a time when I stumbled—and I mean really stumbled. A crucible moment that changed my being forever.

A significant turning point in my life.

Nine months after the birth of my daughter, I turned in my resignation at what I still consider to be the most incredible organization I’ve ever worked for. In the days and weeks that followed, I met with co-workers and friends, sharing laughs, tears, and making promises to stay in touch.

One conversation changed me forever. I stumbled—and while my knees remained unscathed, my heart was certainly bruised.

Sitting on a bench behind the Barnett Bank tower on Brickell Avenue, I can still so clearly hear my co-worker say: “Angela, you are the most gifted listener. You listen with not only your ears, but your heart and soul, rarely judging what I or others have to say. You take it in and let me just be me. You are a gift.” But before I could even thank her for such a beautiful compliment, she went on to say, “And yet after working with you for three years, I don’t know anything about you.” I was speechless. I felt shame flood my entire body. I sat, saying nothing, staring out toward Biscayne Bay.

In the days that followed, I vowed that when I moved and made Richmond, Virginia my home, I not only would be a good listener, but I would also be good at being vulnerable, sharing my stories and experiences with others so that real connection could happen.

Stumbling has the power to change your life.

The stumbles in our lives have an opportunity to mean something if we take the time to pay attention and listen.

I now make it a practice to learn from my stumbles as well as the things I stumble upon.

Will you look away and hope no one sees you trip over your own shoelaces? Or will you look inward and wonder with vigor about what can be learned? The choice is yours. 

I’d love to hear your thoughts and what you’ve learned from your stumbles.