I’m not too hip on pop culture trivia and I get really annoyed with click-bait titles like, “When I saw what happened next my jaw dropped.”
But when I read “Meghan Trainor Takes Mortifying Tumble on Fallon,” I clicked.
It was partly because I like Meghan Trainor’s message of feeling comfortable in your own skin and her song that essentially makes it “cool” for girls to tell a boy “NO.” So while I’m not saying Meghan Trainor is a perfect role model, and I have no idea if she personally believes or lives out her message, I am glad that at least one of the “cool kids” has the sense to write songs that offer at least a kernel of healthy thinking.
And for this reason, I like her. Or at least the little I know about her.
So when I read she took a tumble, I felt a little sorry for her though I didn’t know if the tumble was figurative or literal.
I watched the video.
It was literal. (High heels are actually on the list of legitimate threats to women’s health as “unintentional injuries.” Just say no to saturated fats, carcinogens, and heels).
And while she was icing her ankle, the internet probably tried to crucify her or elect her president.
The only thing that could have made such a horrifying moment even more tantalizing for social media consumers was Jimmy Fallon’s response. (Again, I’m not claiming he’s a bastion of chivalry, but a moment’s observation made me smile.)
As Megan Trainor lay on the floor of his stage, Jimmy Fallon walked on stage and lay down beside her as if it were the new thing to do. They laughed and exchanged unbroadcasted words, then he helped her up.
He didn’t tell her she had no business doing that kind of choreography in heels. He didn’t stand there laughing and point at her clutching his aching side. He helped her up.
And though it might be a stretch, it reminded me of Jesus’ story of the Good Samaritan. Who knelt in the dirt on a dangerous road, tended the wounds of a half-dead traveler, and helped him to safety.
While I’m sure Fallon and Trainor didn’t intend to be a late night parable, I thought it was instructive. And I want to learn from every example of gospel kindness I see, even if my unlikely teachers appear only for a moment on late night television.