One day, we were studying about joy and thanksgiving in the midst of pain and trial. I lacerated two fingers and broke one bone the day after. It hurt more than I could imagine, but there were certainly some benefits.
Those times still come and go when you wonder why you’re still here, what’s the point, when will it ever make sense. These two weeks, I have seen how much my family and coworkers must compensate for merely a broken finger. The next time it crosses your mind that your presence is unnecessary, just tell that lie to go back to hell.
The initial pain of the incident felt like natural childbirth, though not quite The Ring of Fire. The first four days of recovery felt like menstrual cramps contained within one joint – the inflammation, swelling, irritability, sensitivity to temperatures and breezes. (If a gentleman wants to understand the repeated discomfort a lady experiences, go break a finger.) An eye-opening experience for me.
When I could stomach the sight of my phalanges again, I was fascinated by the doctor’s ability to sew a fingernail back onto a digit. I didn’t know this was possible. Now the wounds are sealed, the body’s ability to compensate, swell, bruise, heal, and grow confounds me anew. Some things you think about quite a bit when you’re little and then you mature and forget the awe of natural life. Nothing like a good crack in the hand to remind a person.
The incident reminded me of a book I once read about the introduction of anesthetics to surgery in the 1840s. Though I had to recover from painkilling drugs, I am reminded how shock from even a minor injury could really fling homeostasis into a fatal spiral. I am thankful for the time and place were such drugs are available for trauma patients.
As it turns out, my mind needed the reset. I had days of no responsibilities and no space to ruminate on anything aside from my hand. Pain. Swelling. Meds. Rest. If I really focused, I could update my boss or pay a bill. But this incident gave my mind a much needed respite from weeks of built up mental stress.
This week, I’ve been able to drive and clean house. I’ve been able to enjoy being a full-time mom, taking more time to listen, doctor coughs, delegate chores, talk through assignments at the pace I’ve always wanted to take with my children. We can make waffles, finish making those aprons I started ages ago, do errands together. Sweet presence I haven’t had with them in ages.
So, good timing on the “joy in trials” sermon. I can give thanks in the pain. He always has provided what I need when I need it.