The hands that lifted me

Have you ever fallen in public?

I have—many times. You see, I’m a pretty clumsy person. If there’s a chance to trip over

something, slip on something,

or bump into something… I’ll probably do it.

One of my most memorable falls happened inside the Valencia building. I was walking

confidently, minding my own business,

when my shoes betrayed me. In an instant, I was on the ground—embarrassed, stunned, and

wishing I could disappear.

But before I could even think about standing up, something amazing happened. The security

guard rushed over, and people

I didn’t even know came running to help me. They lifted me up, checked if I was okay, and

stayed with me until I was steady

on my feet. In that moment, my clumsiness didn’t matter. What mattered was that humanity

showed up.

Body:

That day could have been just another embarrassing story about my clumsy nature and bad

shoes. But what I remember most

isn’t the fall—it’s the kindness. These strangers didn’t know me. They didn’t have to

stop. Yet they did—without hesitation.

They didn’t see “just a clumsy person who fell.” They saw someone who needed help.

That’s the beauty of humanity: it appears in small, unexpected ways—like a hand reaching

out when you least expect it.

This wasn’t the first time I was lifted by others. As a kid, I fell off my bike—scraped

knees, tears flowing—and a neighbor

came to the rescue. Later in life, during challenging times that weren’t physical falls, Iexperienced the same thing:

friends, mentors, even strangers offering support when I needed it most.

These experiences have taught me that humanity isn’t about grand gestures. It’s in the

little things—checking on someone,

offering a kind word, or simply being there.

Conclusion:

My clumsiness has given me more than just bruises—it’s given me lessons. Every fall

reminded me that we’re surrounded

by good people, ready to help.

As I start my Toastmasters journey, I hope to grow not only as a speaker but also as

someone who can lift others—

just like those strangers lifted me in the Valencia building.

Because in the end, it’s not the falls we remember—it’s the hands that help us rise.