Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of his body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn’t amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t.
Romans 12:4-6 The Message
I fell last week.
Let’s just say it wasn’t my finest moment, and it has momentarily left me without much use in my right hand. It could have been worse, but it isn’t. I’ll be fine.
The simplest things are a challenge now. Getting dressed, for example. Buttons, snaps and ties weren’t things I thought about before. My husband blew my hair dry today because I couldn’t. And don’t ask me how I know a renegade mascara wand in the wrong hand is a potentially lethal weapon.
Cooking is another thing–my entire kitchen is filled with mason jars. Flour and sugar, salt and spices, held-overs and freezer meals, all in jars. Getting the lid off one-handed requires Cirque de Soleil type contortions. Handling a knife left-handed is asking for trouble.
My brilliant husband has taken on all the cooking. “It’s no big deal,” he said, as he told me about the chili he’d readied for the crockpot. He doesn’t cook often. He’s cautious when he’s chopping vegetables. He’s a much slower cook than I am and I don’t care.
Because here’s the thing: It is a big deal. Yet again, I’m reminded of this truth:
The little things are the big things. And they always have been.