However, when I thought about it later I realised it could have been much worse. My baby daughter had been in the room only minutes before; I was looking down (not up) so it hit me on the skull rather than the face; it hit me with a flat part, rather than a corner (which, I suspect, could have caused quite severe damage); and if it landed any other way, it could have broken my foot, nose, wrist, etc.
In the end, I realised I was thankful. Thankful it had not been worse and that all was fine, and it was a timely reminder to look at how we store some things. Of course, I mean thankful to God, who controls all these events, large and small.
As an aside, I was amazed how few people commented on the bruises except close Christian friends, quite a few who joked something along the lines of "has Husband been at you again?". It did make me think how unprepared we are to confront potential signs of domestic abuse. I wonder if I would ask a friend or an acquaintance what had happened if she sported similar marks, and in a way to allow her to speak whatever the truth was (although, I suspect victims of domestic abuse don't show their scars quite so openly and happily as I did). These are much more sobering thoughts.
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