A Collage Of Words (Part III of III)

So here I am, writing the final installment of this three-part series... and I'm not sure if I have any one thing to say.

Easy part first... the visual update:

In my prior reflection, I noted that our lives are always on display, though we try not to think about that reality very much. I will close this series out with a series of one-word feelings.

Ignorant. By the time the doctor explained what he'd be dealing with during the surgery, I realized why my ankle doc recommended a hand specialist and why the folks at the ER were so eager to not do anything more than stitch me up. Holy cow. A tight (carpal?) tunnel. A tight tendon. Surrounded by two nerves, one on either side. Yeah. I had no idea how delicate and complicated a hand is. But I do now.

Thankful. The doc saw me on the 23rd. And came in early to operate on Christmas eve. That kindness, fitting me into his schedule on the day before Christmas, gave me the holidays to begin the worst of my recovery period. But that's just the tip of the thankfulness iceberg. Thankful that surgery is an option. Thankful that my surgeon is skilled and competent.

I could go on and on. And, to prove it, I will. Let's talk timing.

That pointless trip to the ER back in June when I got hit by a drunk driver? It seemed such a waste, because I wasn't even injured. I just realized today that all those pointless health expenses.... they used up some of my 2015 deductible. Dollar for dollar. That ambulance trip and ER care (paid for by the drunk's insurance) saved me some $2,000 over the past week. If the thumb injury had happened tomorrow? That's 2016. No savings.

I could go on and on. And, to prove it, I will. Let's talk work.

My work had reached a manageable pace. Good thing. Because I'm typing slowly right now. I am able to keep up with my must-do list. Thank God.

Dispensable. Yes, much to be thankful for. But still a poignant reminder of my human frailty. One minute in perfect health. Next minute typing like a one-handed monkey. Yeah. Did I ever mention that typing well is part of my job description as a programmer? Thank God work is slow right now. Because I am too.

Defenseless. How, I asked the doc, did I manage to take out a tendon without touching the two nerves on either side of it? He suggested that perhaps I was gripping something when the glass shard went by? Yeah. The Pyrex pan. Because of how I was holding it, my tendon was extended out beyond the nerves. Nice touch, God. The finger of God is nothing if not precise. We are helpless in the hands (pardon that pun) of a God who ordains the moments of our lives.

We like to think we are the captains of our ship. But we're not.

A post-op therapist (while discussing therapy options) commented to me that my hand doc is the captain of my ship right now. Well, she was right that I myself am not. But the surgeon isn't either. God is. And I, my friends, am a small, frail, and quite disposable assortment of flesh and blood. (And a few odd tendons.)

Loved. 2016 is a precarious future for me in many ways. But the God who has been with me and orchestrated this inchoate eucatastrophe–that God will be with me in the days to come. In the midst of all that went wrong, so many things went right. I have uncountable things to be thankful for. That the glass shards didn't get into my eyes...

But as I write these feelings down...

Ignorant... Thankful... Dispensable... Defenseless... Loved.

These words. In truth, they describe my every day. My every moment.

Well, almost. Thankfulness is the word in that mix that is within my control. Sadly, too often I fail to hold to it, even while the others hold true.

Even when, through it all, I am... Loved.

Yes, that is the best part. Knowing that I am loved. A fitting realization to close this year out with. God loves us all. Ever so much.

Happy New Year!