Cut

It showed up this morning. A small cut on my left ring finger. I was in the shower and felt the tiniest bit of pain on the tip of the finger. Looking at it I could see a minute slit and a bit of redness around it.

Where did the cut come from? A quick inventory of my actions till then did not show anything... maybe it was a paper-cut from opening the Indian Express?

What a luxury to have a body that alerts of the smallest abrasion. What a luxury to have a body that is quietly healing itself. What a luxury to see and then be able to forget.

I wish our scooter were like that. Every niggle and jibble that I feel reminds me that I need to service it. Every spot of rust makes me wish for self-healing. The dear Honda Activa is no longer sounding as smoothly purring as she was a few years ago. Would that she had even 1/20th of the self-healing properties that our amazingly-designed and lovingly-maintained human bodies have.

Dr. Paul Brand knew something about pain. His classic book The Gift of Pain (written together with Philip Yancey) explores the amazing way that our pain receptors save our lives - by constantly warning us in split-second real time of acute dangers - and also giving our bodies plenty of info to care for itself when a part is in need of rest and recuperation. You only need to see the terrible damage that Hansen's Disease does to limbs and life (formerly called Leprosy) to see what can take place without our pain receptors and communicators working well!

My finger tip is doing that now. As I type I find myself pressing ever-so-slightly less hard with my left ring finger. And that's good - because it makes sure the healing takes place quicker. If I persist and start doing damage - you can be sure that it will tell me with a higher dose of 'pain.'

Strangely, we seem almost numb when it comes to so much of our human experience. The hurts and pains that so many of us go through are muffled. We hide our pains behind shiney smiles ('don't want them to think that I am wierd'). We drown it out with relentless chit-chat or ubiquitous noise (a.k.a. busyness). Sometimes we just avoid each other. Likewise, we are often so uncomfortable with others being in pain - that we mentally aknowledge something but then allow our minds to 'move on' to other things.

Would that we took a bit more time to deal with things that are not going right in each other. It is not easy. It makes us vulnerable. It could cause to 'more pain' in the short-run at least. But its necessary. Our pains tell us something. They tell us that all is not well. Without turning life into one long-drawn-out-therapeutic-experience - we can be senstitive and allow God to open our eyes to the signs of things-not-right. And make the necessary (though sometimes 'pain-full' steps) to set things right.