These Hands of Mine
My hands have been giving me fits lately. The insignificant little paper cut on my right index finger has reminded me of its existence all week, whenever I sit down to strum my guitar. The blood blister on my thumb is a silent and (finally) painless reminder of that incident earlier this week, when I tried to catch a wooden salad bowl as it fell out of an upper kitchen cupboard. I was unable to snag the errant bowl, but I managed to deflect it with my thumb, so it will be around to serve salad another day.
I thought I was done with cracked fingers for this year, but fickle April's recent wintry weather has caused yet another gaping crack on my right thumb, tender and sometimes bleeding, right next to the fingernail, as usual. Now that it is officially spring here in the Nebraska panhandle, I haven't been as careful to always wear my gloves outside, especially when I step out for just a minute to carry some garbage to the dumpster. By now, I should have learned that it only takes a few seconds' exposure for that cold, dry air to trigger the formation of a dastardly crack--or two or three. There isn't enough lotion in my house to prevent such cracks, which can take weeks to heal, even when I remember to slather them judiciously with my Neosporin pain relief ointment or the "natural, soothing, and effective" (according to the label) Crack Zapit I bought at our local farm supply store.
I just noticed a broken fingernail, so I will have to cut that nail really short to fix the problem. Sigh...that will add yet another ugly fingernail to the mix.
Which brings me to the real issue with my hands: according to my rheumatologist, I have "very bad" osteoarthritis in my hands. I wasn't surprised, on Wednesday, to hear him tell me what I have known for several years. I just wish he knew about some magical, easy fix, but, of course, there is none. So, I may need to live with my big knuckles and twisted fingers, and with the four (and counting) deformed fingernails that have been aggravated by the supposedly painless mucous cysts that form on the knuckles closest to my fingernails.
Several years ago, when I consulted the orthopedic surgeon who ultimately repaired the trigger fingers in my left hand, he told me that nothing could be done for the mucous cysts until they obviously interfered with my fingernails. Well, the time has come, so I guess I'll be seeking some advice from a surgeon, yet again. If surgery means that I will break fewer glasses and drop fewer guitar picks at worship team practice, reach guitar chords more easily, and even be able to open jars again, I'm all for it, but there is no guarantee that more mucous cysts won't form later.
My arthritis is hereditary; my mom's fingers are much more twisted than mine. I am sure, though, that my guitar-playing habit, along with frequent keyboarding, have accelerated my arthritis. Ironically, I find that playing my guitar, and typing my blog, work together to keep my arthritic fingers limber. "Use it or lose it," cliche though it may be, is accurate for me, at least where my arthritis is concerned.
All of this aggravation with my hands has lead me to a new, more positive train of thought.
Have you ever stopped to really think about what a gift we have in our hands? I don't mean in our hands, though; I mean to say that our hands are a marvelous gift from God. Even on my clumsiest days, I can still use the hands God has given me to dress myself, tie my shoes, brush my teeth, prepare a meal, do the laundry, write a grocery list, drive a car, lift a grandchild, paint a picture, and yes, even play my guitar or write a new blog post. If God had given me the paws of a cat, as an example, I could bat minuscule objects around the house, keep myself clean, and actually walk on my "hands," but I wouldn't be able to do most of the things I can accomplish even now with my arthritic hands. For most of us, our livelihoods and leisure activities depend upon our hands, which work flawlessly for decades, according to God’s magnificent design.
I've known some people who have lost the use of their hands. Some have learned to compensate by using other body parts or prosthetic limbs, but many rely on significant help from other people with workable hands. With no hands at all, life is impossible without assistance, but with even limited use of the hands God has given us, we are free to live our lives, creatively and abundantly.
So let's give God a hand for giving us hands! He knew just what we would need to live full, satisfying lives. Today, I'm thanking God for my hands, warts and all. (Oh, wait, the warts are finally gone--Thank you, God, for removing those annoying warts!)
I thought I was done with cracked fingers for this year, but fickle April's recent wintry weather has caused yet another gaping crack on my right thumb, tender and sometimes bleeding, right next to the fingernail, as usual. Now that it is officially spring here in the Nebraska panhandle, I haven't been as careful to always wear my gloves outside, especially when I step out for just a minute to carry some garbage to the dumpster. By now, I should have learned that it only takes a few seconds' exposure for that cold, dry air to trigger the formation of a dastardly crack--or two or three. There isn't enough lotion in my house to prevent such cracks, which can take weeks to heal, even when I remember to slather them judiciously with my Neosporin pain relief ointment or the "natural, soothing, and effective" (according to the label) Crack Zapit I bought at our local farm supply store.
I just noticed a broken fingernail, so I will have to cut that nail really short to fix the problem. Sigh...that will add yet another ugly fingernail to the mix.
Which brings me to the real issue with my hands: according to my rheumatologist, I have "very bad" osteoarthritis in my hands. I wasn't surprised, on Wednesday, to hear him tell me what I have known for several years. I just wish he knew about some magical, easy fix, but, of course, there is none. So, I may need to live with my big knuckles and twisted fingers, and with the four (and counting) deformed fingernails that have been aggravated by the supposedly painless mucous cysts that form on the knuckles closest to my fingernails.
My arthritis is hereditary; my mom's fingers are much more twisted than mine. I am sure, though, that my guitar-playing habit, along with frequent keyboarding, have accelerated my arthritis. Ironically, I find that playing my guitar, and typing my blog, work together to keep my arthritic fingers limber. "Use it or lose it," cliche though it may be, is accurate for me, at least where my arthritis is concerned.
All of this aggravation with my hands has lead me to a new, more positive train of thought.
Have you ever stopped to really think about what a gift we have in our hands? I don't mean in our hands, though; I mean to say that our hands are a marvelous gift from God. Even on my clumsiest days, I can still use the hands God has given me to dress myself, tie my shoes, brush my teeth, prepare a meal, do the laundry, write a grocery list, drive a car, lift a grandchild, paint a picture, and yes, even play my guitar or write a new blog post. If God had given me the paws of a cat, as an example, I could bat minuscule objects around the house, keep myself clean, and actually walk on my "hands," but I wouldn't be able to do most of the things I can accomplish even now with my arthritic hands. For most of us, our livelihoods and leisure activities depend upon our hands, which work flawlessly for decades, according to God’s magnificent design.
I've known some people who have lost the use of their hands. Some have learned to compensate by using other body parts or prosthetic limbs, but many rely on significant help from other people with workable hands. With no hands at all, life is impossible without assistance, but with even limited use of the hands God has given us, we are free to live our lives, creatively and abundantly.
So let's give God a hand for giving us hands! He knew just what we would need to live full, satisfying lives. Today, I'm thanking God for my hands, warts and all. (Oh, wait, the warts are finally gone--Thank you, God, for removing those annoying warts!)
I will praise you as long as I live, and in your name I will lift up my hands.
Psalm 63:4
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