Friday, October 10, 2014

My right thumb

For those of you who have weak stomachs, I'm not going to post a picture, but I managed to pull off half of my right thumb nail Monday. It began as a sewing accident and rapidly progressed...Sigh. It's always something, I tell you. Anyway, when I say half, I mean, half, I'm exaggerating, but not but much, and I'm talking vertically.

And it's NOT pleasant. No, let me go so far as to say I'm in a whole lot of pain every time this blasted thumb touches anything and that's saying a whole lot for someone who lives in chronic pain.When a dog nudges me, or I try to text, or reach for a utensil in a drawer, it hurts like billy-o (as Eustace Shrugg says in Voyage of the Dawn Treader). The thing is, that the soft tissue beneath a fingernail normally never sees the light of day and there's a reason for that. I won't go into all the details, but whoa...

Now I'm sporting a finger protecter, a cornflower blue, velcro, metal and foam gadget that goes a long ways toward keeping my thumb safe from would-be assassins. You know, those menaces like  coffee cups and onions and the edge of chairs and a thousand other things out to get me in every-day life. I'm not saying my thumb isn't throbbing every second; no, I won't go that far, but at least I'm not curled up in a fetal position praying for heaven.

It's funny how one small part of a body can overwhelm with such exquisite agony. I'm blessed to be left-handed, and blessed that I don't make my living doing something that takes strong hands and both of them. I'm also blessed that I haven't had to suffer great piercing agony like so many others in history that I can whine about my thumb. I mean, speaking of thumbs, think of being strung up by them like those in the middle ages. Or having them cut off (along with the rest of your hand) because you displeased your husband. Or having your life cut short because someone wanted to make a statement to the western world. Or because you believe something.

I am afforded the luxury of my life, of whining and complaining my pain.
I know that. I know I've been plenty blessed and for no reason other than that I was born when and where and who I am.

I dare not take that for granted.
I dare not EVER take Him for granted for this specific life I was given.

Even the small pains I've been given I see in the context of my own life, my own luxurious life.
Or perhaps I should say, the abundant life.

It didn't have to have been this way.
So I praise Him,

Oddly, my right thumb reminds me to ask Him,
What would you have me do with this abundant life you have given?

1 comment:

Pamela M. Steiner said...

I just read the first part of your post to my family assembled in the living room watching football. All of these macho men just cringed and groaned and said, oooooooouch, that had to hurt. My face is still contorted with empathetic pain. I looked at my thumbnail and thought how awful that would be. I'm glad you didn't post a picture. The word description was enough, trust me! I am hurting with you and praying for your soon recovery. I am amazed you were able to type this post. Blessings to you my friend. I am hurting for you...but I am certain I am not hurting as much as you are. God bless you my friend...oh ouch...still thinking about that... :) xoxoxo