Another bone hits the dust

Just as my life was becoming slightly more routine, with me getting around and doing housework on my iwalk 2.0 and chasing after the kids on my knee scooter, life threw me another curveball.

Emma had soccer camp this morning, so we had a rushed day, trying to get there on time. My knee scooter and the grass are not good friends, but I hopped around reasonably well and got lots of help from the other moms. One of them even took Daniel potty, all of four times that he has to go during the morning session. We came home, and I realized that Emma only had one shoe. I looked everywhere for its pair, and I mean Everywhere, as it is her last pair of runners and she has soccer all week. The previous pair dwindled down to one shoe a few days ago.

Given that I am still non weight bearing on the right foot, my balance is not great. I was carrying two bags and thinking about the shoe, and somehow rested my hand on the garage door hinge. It closed automatically and crushed my middle finger. I tried to turn around to reach the knob, but it took me a while, during which time I felt it. The unmistakeable crack of another broken bone. My middle finger of the right hand.

The nail popped off partially, so I called my husband for help as I was once again in a lot of pain. I went to ER, saw the broken bone and decided that F@ck it, I have nine other fingers and I am not going to let this injury cramp my style. Sure, I cannot have my hand in water anymore for 2 weeks, so there goes kayaking and arms only swimming (at which, I might add, I was becoming pretty good).  Sure, we might get some take out 'cause I suck at doing dishes with one hand. And yeah, it hurts like a miniature bomb exploded in my distal phalanx.

However, my good leg and nine good fingers are going to organize a great birthday party for Emma tomorrow. And, despite everyone else thinking I am crazy, on Thursday I am going to the gym to hit the weights, even if I have to use my elbows.

My friend who watched the kids while I went to ER wondered whether this is God's way of slowing me down.  I know that this is a common belief, that God somehow tries to communicate with us through misfortunes and injuries. I can see the appeal of the thought behind it, that the broken bones are for my own good, to teach me something.  I cannot however believe that God who loves me would choose this method to communicate. Hey, beloved child, I will break your foot to slow you down. Didn't catch my drift? Ok then, let me break your finger next. Still not?  I will break every bone in your body until you get it.

See, it just does not add up to the image of God that I carry in my heart. Can good things come out of my injury? Sure, good things come out of every misfortune. Is my husband emptying the dishwasher regularly? Yes, courtesy of broken bones. Are my kids putting their clothes in the laundry basket? Ditto. However, this is what I think:  bad luck caused me to jump and land at an angle, snapping my foot bone and the ankle ligament.  Thereafter, being injured lead to me needing to hold onto the door frame for balance, which caused my finger to be crushed.

I am a bit worried, yes, and at times wonder what is next in store for me. But as a bonus perk that will come out of this injury, I am going to sharpen my "F@ck it" mindset and concentrate on the remaining limbs in working order that I have left to make the most out of the next month.