One of my deepest life convictions is that pain must not be wasted. Pain is the rich, fertile soil for the growth of wisdom. God wants us to reflect into our pain. I once led a weekend retreat focusing on how God can help us “mine” our difficult life experiences in order to arrive at personal beliefs about life.
Recently I have come to believe that I can also learn not only from my pain, but from my own stupidity. Let me walk you through this, but I assure you you can’t learn from your own stupidity without two things: humility and a sense of humor.
I was in my glory. Life couldn’t be better. In the kitchen at my daughter’s home in South Carolina were my adult daughters, grandchildren and my son-in-law. From the oven the roasting leg of lamb stuffed with garlic, spinach, and goat cheese came aromas arousing our anticipation of a wonderful Easter dinner. And me? I was at the kitchen island using my new slicer to prepare vegetables for ratatouille, a dish I learned to make from Madame Bruno, an incredible chef I had worked with in New York. (Yes, I had a life before psychology.) And then it happened.
I didn’t have to look. I didn’t want to look. I felt it and knew. Our ratatouille would have a morsel Madame Bruno’s never had: my fingertip.
The next few hours brought out thoughts, feelings, and a realization that God could use my own stupidity to teach me about life and draw me closer to Him. Allow me to share my journey.
SUDDENNESS-Everything changed in an instant. The festive atmosphere of a family Easter gathering became a scene of fear and loss. We could not prepare for it. Blood was spouting from my finger, and though I know we are just talking about a fingertip, it was clear to all of us that a portion of my finger was gone. I realized that once the slice occurred, we could never go back. I was powerless to recreate the atmosphere we had all enjoyed.
SHAME AND SELF CONTEMPT-I shouted “stupid, stupid, stupid!!!” I knew how dangerous the sharp blade of the slicer was. Yet in my self-indulgent demonstration of the preparation of the dish (I was showing off), I didn’t concentrate. I knew I had no one to blame but myself. And I blamed. Raged at myself. Why? Once again I was forced to realize I am not who I want to be. I am so flawed. I don’t like to be flawed and much less, to have those I love see me unmasked.
SELF-INDULGANCE-I was so tempted to manipulate the situation to get sympathy. “I am so sorry I wrecked your Easter dinner, can you ever forgive me?” Which would force my family to give me reassurances, “No, Dad, it’s ok. Don’t worry about us. We’re just worried about you. Don’t feel bad.” Amazing. I could use my own failures to make myself an object of sympathy. Thankfully I was given the strength to resist that urge. I am not a victim. I am responsible for what I do.
FAMILY-My two adult daughters, Olivia and Emily, are licensed medical professionals used to dealing with blood and trauma. They are both very competent and have seen things much worse than a sliced off finger tip. But this was family-this was Dad. They could not shift into the role of dispassionate medical providers but reacted as daughters. It is so easy to give “wisdom” from afar. But when tragedy is personal, everything changes. Beware of ivory tower advice givers.
BODY AND SOUL-In a flash I realized my mortality. I could lose any part of my body in an instant. I would not be with my body forever. C.S. Lewis’s statement came back to me. “We are not a body who has a soul. We are a soul who has a body.” I am more than my body, more than a biological being. At some point my flesh and blood will stop functioning. My soul is alive despite my body: it will go on.
PERSPECTIVE AND GRATITUDE-Dan took me to a clinic and within an hour I was cleaned up, bandaged, and sent home. Several shots directly into my stub were the worst pain I had to endure. I thought of the many people I knew who had suffered so much worse. I wondered what would happen to some of the men I met on my mission’s trips to Ghana and Pakistan. If they sliced their fingertip off while in the remote regions they would have no medical care. An infection could easily occur with a possible severe illness resulting in a loss of life. I had so much for which to be grateful.
TRANSFORMATION-Rather than me being the cook of the day, I was forced to watch from the couch. I changed from the role of the provider and giver to being the receiver. My daughters moved from watching Dad do his thing to working together to make a fantastic Easter dinner (minus the ratatouille). Dan moved from a secondary role to the prime role with me. Olivia and Emily were not up for the trip to the clinic so Dan took me. What a time for male bonding! The day was a wonderful time of family togetherness. God uses our pain (and stupidity) for his glory and our good.
RESTORATION-When I cut off my fingertip what remained looked like a cleanly sliced carrot top. The tip was gone right down to the top of the bone. But since that time last April, a change has occurred. Though I still don’t have complete feeling in the finger, the tip has grown back. Unless you looked closely you would not know that I had sliced it off. None of us thought the restoration would be so complete. God is in the restoration business. I know not all physical losses result in healing, but mine did. God is a restoring God. His intent is never to leave us broken and forever lost. Restoration may occur in this life or the next, but it will happen. I know my Redeemer lives.
Michael Misja
Loved your ending: ” God is a restoring God. His intent is never to leave us broken and forever lost. Restoration may occur in this life or the next, but it will happen.” It is so very true. When I was told this many many times, years in a row, I could not believe it because for too long I had believed the lies of the deciver. Now I know is true, because Christ had done this miracle in my own life.
Thank you for being honest and open and transparent and writing a beautiful post from a mondene, personal experience.