Thank You Lord for Letting Me Slice Off Part of My Toe

For months I've been getting messages. Taps on the shoulder. Whispers from God.  My daily Bible readings should have been written Dear Rebecca, at the top.  They were custom made for me. I read them, recognized they were for me, even shared  them on Facebook for others because they felt important.  I had an emotional connection to the message but I didn't do anything differently to respond to the messages.

This was a biggy .....

And during this time I was in the middle of working full time, trying to figure out the new summer reality with kids and camps and enough food in the house, AND cleaning out the house for a huge garage sale.  Cleaning out attics, and basements, and cubbies and closets, and pricing it, moving it, arranging it, advertising it. blah blah blah. 

I read this post and others and would feel it, know it was for me, and then decide that "when I got caught up" I would heed the advice and slow down and listen and learn.  Even typing it now I realize how ridiculous that is.  Yea, Lord you're in charge, just as soon as I get done, you can take over again.

I've witnessed over the years that when I refuse to heed the whisper and the warning, He will provide me with something to slow me down.  My own illness, or a child's illness, something I can't ignore. 

In an effort to incorporate some fun into this chaos, I invited friends to come over Friday night for Summer Solstice.  Exhausted from the sale, we ran into the grocery store and bought some meat for the grill and were planning to hang on the deck for a few hours until it was time to drag 8 tables back out for day 3 of the mega sale.

Did I mention how tired I was?

While wielding my Wustoff filet knife, that is sharp enough to perform an appendectomy,  I dropped the knife.

It was slow motion.  I tried to move my almost bare flip flopped feet but I was too tired and too slow.  I didn't really feel a cut, I just felt my body react to the cut.  My stomach fell to the floor and the blood rushed out of my face.  I think it's important to share that I pass out just from being inside a hospital and I close my eyes during surgery scenes in Grey's Anatomy.  I'm not really good in these situations is putting it mildly.

I turned to my friend and said, I think I cut my toe but I can't look.  How bad is it?  She should be a freakin' ER nurse, her calm borders on creepy.  I hiked my foot on the counter.  (Not the best day to put on a cute little sun dress )

She says, "oh no problem just a little poke, one little spot of blood, it's good, get some pressure on it."  Then I decide to look and see that the blood is spreading a little because I've sliced off just a small little piece of my toe.  Clean off.

And then it starts to bleed.  Now here's the deal.  It was a tiny little corner off the end of my toe.  But honestly, how big does the piece you cut off have to be to make it "worse".  In my book, anytime you slice off a piece of your toe, it's kind of a bad day.   It made me laugh when people would say, "Well how bad is it? And when I would respond, oh just a little slice, I wouldn't get the sympathy I clearly deserved.  Sympathy is delivered per square inch of toe apparently. 

So then I went into "I've got to sit down panicky mode"  My ER friend took over.  Caring for my wound, fixing dinner, fixing me a drink, getting me a magazine, letting me cry a little.  Just like that I was no longer in charge.  Grounded.

After a really nice dinner I didn't prepare, I shared my experiences with my friend.  I should have known it was coming.  I had ignored every other warning, whisper and tap on the shoulder.  Just moving frenetically with every day's goal to get more done.  Until I couldn't.

So tonight I sit, leg propped, reflecting on my stubbornness and my arrogance. Again full aware of how little I really control but how much I think I do.  Duh.

So I grab my Bible reading for tonight.  This.

And I giggled a little because I knew it was coming.  Just a little scolding.

So my response:

Thank you Lord for allowing me to slice off the end of my toe.  Thank you for my friend that stepped in to care for me and let me be vulnerable and weepy and not at all in control.  Thank you for this time to sit and heal and reflect.  I'm awake now.  Again.  I'm hopeful that I can keep the message fresh for quite some time.

I'm grateful that even though I stray and get too big for my britches too often, I can see my mistakes and still thank You for Your love and guidance.  I really didn't need the tip of my toe as much as I needed to be grounded and guided.   Maybe we can get Carrie Underwood to write a new song, "Jesus Take the Filet Knife" and Wustoff can produce it.
Amen.