No guts, no glory

I only broke one bone in my body in my whole lifetime. My pinky. I broke it when I tackled a girl while playing rugby and she landed on it. Snap! I didn't even feel it happen. The girl who fell on me felt it more than I did. She jumped up and said, "let me see your hand!" She started yanking on my pinky thinking she dislocated it and was trying to realign it. My adrenaline was running so high, I still didn't feel it. I stayed in the game and the next time the ball came to me, I caught it and almost immediately dropped it. The pain set in. I just kept on playing thinking I would ice it later. A few plays later, I took a huge swipe in the leg that not only took me out of the game, but put me in an ambulance headed for the emergency room. That marked the end of my rugby days. No guts, no glory. Whatever.

The ER doctors got such a kick out of my injuries. They couldn't believe a 5-foot-1, then-110-pound girl was playing rugby. I chatted with the doctors, told them my pinky hurt, took a few x-rays and then that's when they told me. "You broke your finger." What? It never occurred to me that I would actually get hurt playing rugby. It was just a game...or so I stupidly thought. My leg was fine--just badly bruised--so I limped out of the ER with the aid of my sister and my pinky was in a splint. I wondered how I would hide my injury from my mom. She always warned me not to play that sport for fear I would get hurt. But did I listen? Of course not. No guts, no glory. That's what was printed on my sweatshirt when I was leaving the hospital, but that's not what I was saying when the bill for the ambulance came in the mail.

My pinky healed, but I have what you call a mallet finger. The extensor tendon in my distal interphalangeal joint was torn. In other words--the tippy top of my pinky won't make straighty no more. It's crooked to this day. It totally improved my fourth finger vibrato when I played the viola, but that's another story. It was the pain of the healing process of my broken bone nearly twenty years ago that is so applicable to my journey today.

I'm hurting right now. Overworked, overwhelmed, over it. When I pray in times of distress, I tend to finally tune my ear to God's wisdom. Just like with my mom scolding me about playing rough sports, I finally heard her only after I was in pain. Why do I always wait until something goes awry before I listen? God told me that I'm broken. And if I'm going to heal the right way, he had to immobilize me, put me in a cast so I can't move. He had to hold me in place, however painful, until my bone was set straight. As if my leg were in a cast, I want to run, but I can't even walk. The pain of waiting. The pain of knowing that I could be doing more, but can't. Because I've played so recklessly throwing caution to the wind, I'm now facing the pain of repair. When I broke my pinky, I never realized how important that little bone was in my daily activity. Everything that I did with my hands hurt. I struggled to wash my hair, put on my clothes, drive my car, pick up my books. I was never unaware of my brokenness.

Today, I'm in a state of spiritual brokenness. I have to give myself time to mend in the hands of the Ultimate Healer. I don't like not being able to move. I don't like not being able to fix things on my own. I don't like sitting still. It takes intestinal fortitude for that. It takes guts. No guts? Then no glory--for God. As opposite as it seems in our culture to deny ourselves selfish glory, it's more profitable to live a life with an awareness of our brokenness. His voice is clearer to me in that state. And when I heed Him, I just might find myself not immobilized, but free.

I want to end this with a few lyrics to what has become my theme song. "In the Waiting" by Vicki Yohe:

I want a peace beyond my understanding

I want to feel it fall like rain in the middle of my hurting

I want to feel Your arms as they surround me

And let me know that it's okay to be here in this place

Resting in the peace that only comes in the waiting.

Soli Deo gloria. For the glory of God alone.