What goes up must come down… or so they say.
Angus McAngus here. When I prayed for a wife, the effects of gravitational pull never even crossed my mind. Mine had been more of a figurative prayer. A general, “Can you make this happen, Lord?” kind of prayer. Not a literal, drop a woman into your arms, affair.
But when that branch above me broke, I had to make a split second decision. But the outcome was predestined (and I’m not even a Calvinist). I couldn’t just let her fall.
That woman was me, Georgie Frost, and I definitely hadn’t planned to lose my footing. Rather, I’d been trying to avoid an obnoxious relative and panicked. Which subsequently landed me in Angus’s arms. I can’t say that was too upsetting.
What is upsetting is the way our lives seem to have been set on a collision course with danger. Starting with that frail voice on the radio asking whether it would be proper to make cookies for the intruders prowling around her attic and ending with… sharks?
Like, how did that happen?
Dial G for Gravity—where the biggest problem in protecting a heart is when it won’t stay protected.
