As I stretched out my legs, nothing supported my weight. Air began rushing past my face as I fell to my demise. Breaking the fall, my rib hugged a piece of wood and snapped.

In March 2011, my family set off for the annual Robber’s Cave campout. My family had attended this activity since I was a baby, and I always looked forward to this time of year.

After my three-hour nap in the car, we arrived. I hopped out ready to begin exploring. Massive green trees, rustic cabins, huge stones, and the sound of a babbling river filled me with excitement. But before I was able to run away, I heard my mom’s voice tell me to come help unpack. Dad finished unloading the car, and I began picking up the small bags. I left the bigger bags for my older sisters because I could only carry so much as a 5-year-old.

Each cabin had eight bunkbeds inside, and that was it. My sisters and I set up on one side of the cabin, while Dad and Mom stayed on the other side. The three bunkbeds that separated us were filled with delicious snacks, which we only got once a year during this trip.

Once I finished my duties, Dad said I could go explore. I found my best friend, and we headed out to the fire where everyone else had congregated. We played around the firepit, amused ourselves on the playground, and ate a scrumptious dinner. Life was great.

After dinner, my family and I went back to the cabin. While getting ready for bed, I asked my parents if I could go on the top bunk.

Sure, but don’t get too close to the edge. It will hurt if you fall off.

I struggled, but eventually made it to the top bunk and stared down at the rest of the world. Excitement rushed through my little body—this was the highest bed I had ever been on. After the thrill of being so far off the ground faded away, I carefully crawled down the side of the bed, said goodnight to my parents and sisters, and went to bed.

The next day, I continued exploring. This time I found someone a little older to hang out with. She was ten years old—definitely a big kid. We went back to her cabin, and played together for a while. Then she decided to draw in her journal—on the top bunk. I wanted to join her as she doodled. I assured her I was allowed up there and told her of my accomplishment the previous night.

Sitting on the top bunk, I watched her fill her journal with wonderful little drawings and words. After a while, she stretched out her legs to rest them on the bunkbed across from us. Copying her, I stretched out my legs to the parallel bunkbed, but I was half her age and size. My legs couldn’t reach the other bed, and instead, they flew under and my body headed straight for the bottom bunk. Tears began streaming down my face. The older girl hopped down eager to help me up. People began popping in to check if I was alright. All I could do was cry and hold my abdomen.

One adult led me to my dad, and there I explained to him what happened and where I was hurting. Instead of attending the cozy movie planned for that evening, I entered a stale and lifeless hospital. The doctor took an X-ray of my torso before breaking the news to my dad: I had a broken rib. To get my mind off my rib, the doctor gave me a balloon, which did make me feel a little better.

As we drove back to the campsite, I realized I wouldn’t be able to participate in any other activities at the campout. If only I had obeyed my parents warning from the night before, I could have enjoyed another amazing campout.

Proverbs 22:17-18 says, “Bow down thine ear, and hear the words of the wise, and apply thine heart unto my knowledge. For it is a pleasant thing if thou keep them within thee; they shall withal be fitted in thy lips.”

I learned that it’s not enough to obey to our parents’ admonitions once. We must continue to obey what they tell us. Doing so would have prevented a broken rib. Continual obedience will help us in many areas of our life. Whether in school, extracurricular activities, or sports, obeying previous instructions will help us improve and grow, and it may even prevent an injury. Now, every time I sleep on a top bunkbed, I remember the advice of my parents: Don’t get too close to the edge.