Ouch

The ski patrol medic held my hand. I winced.
"These injuries do hurt alot," he said sympathetically.

He rummaged in the medicine cabinet searching for supplies.
"Ah, here is the one I need," he said pulling out a roll of gauze, scissors, and tape.
"I think I dislocated it," I said,"And felt like passing out, but I wrenched it back in its socket. It hurts alot though."
"This is the most common ski injury," he said, "They call it skiers thumb. Jamming their hand against the ground when they fall."
I nodded, and grimaced as he gently began to wrap my thumb.
"How'd you do it?" he asked.

Drat. I knew he might end up asking that. And first he would want to know how I had enjoyed my day, had I been there since the slope opened at 8, was I on one of those dreaded Black Devil runs......?
Truth be told, I had not yet set foot on the slope.....

"I was tightening my kid's ski boot for her," I admitted.
He didn't bat an eye. They must hear and see alot of wild stories on the ski slopes.
"I was afraid I would go into shock," I said, "Like I did the first time I injured my thumb like this."
"What did you do that time?" he asked, wrapping the thumb carefully.
"I was pushing a grocery cart," I said.
"Yeh, you gotta be careful with contact sports like that," he sympathized

He finished up.
"How does it feel?" he asked.
I pulled my ski glove over it.
"It feels great!" I said, "I don't use my poles anyway. I think I will be fine. Thankyou!"

And off I went to the safer sport of actually skiing.

I had known some sort of punishment awaited me. I am always guilty of something. I was relatively glad I had gotten off so easily. Thankfully, despite a good 20 or 30 runs down the mountain, I didn't fall so I didn't get skiers thumb the way most skiers get it. And Asherel and her friend Alex were making remarkable progress on their snowboards.

It reminded me of another serious injury I had once sustained- a concussion. I got that one vacuuming.

I suppose my life is why I have no problem accepting the Bible as literal truth. No one would believe anything I said if they weren't there to observe it. Fact is always stranger than fiction. But my injury made me think of poor old Jeremiah of the Old Testament, trying to convince the Israelites to stop disobeying God, and trust Him. Sometimes we are afflicted,  and we must endure, because there is no other choice. But ultimately, it is all for good if it turns us back to the only one who can heal our sick soul as well as our dislocated thumbs.

Jeremiah 10: 19-22
 ¹⁹ Woe to me because of my injury!
   My wound is incurable!
Yet I said to myself,
   “This is my sickness, and I must endure it.”
²⁰ My tent is destroyed;
   all its ropes are snapped.
My children are gone from me and are no more;
   no one is left now to pitch my tent
   or to set up my shelter.
²¹ The shepherds are senseless
   and do not inquire of the LORD;
so they do not prosper
   and all their flock is scattered.
²² Listen! The report is coming—
   a great commotion from the land of the north!
It will make the towns of Judah desolate,
   a haunt of jackals.

 ²³ LORD, I know that people’s lives are not their own;
   it is not for them to direct their steps.
²⁴ Discipline me, LORD, but only in due measure—
   not in your anger,
   or you will reduce me to nothing.