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  • Writer's pictureitallstartsintheho

LIve With It!


One morning, I plopped into the car with my purse and work bag, ready to drive to work. As I placed my things down on the passenger seat, I noticed what looked like a piece of lint sitting on top of the opening of my purse. Without thinking twice, I used my hand to swipe it away. I was deceived by what appeared to be a harmless piece of lint by a tiny shard of glass. I didn't even realize it until the sharp pain and some droplets of blood on my other fingers. I was startled. I had no idea where the glass came from, but it was definitely hurting my finger. I quickly found a napkin in the side pocket of my car door to soak up the blood so it wouldn't get on my clothes. Thankfully, I had my emergency bandaid tucked in my wallet for situations like this.  


After a week and three bandages later, the wound was still uncomfortable.  I didn't see the tear anymore, but the area was sensitive.  I wasn't sure what the problem was, but my daughter commented that the glass could still be inside my skin.  I dismissed the idea but had that odd inkling she was right.  


Since my daughter's not afraid of blood and has a pretty steady hand, we voted she would be the one to open up the cut again and check to see if there was glass and to remove it.  We sanitized all the different sizes of tweezers and other homemade tools for my minor surgery.  Since I'm a wimp when it comes to blood and pain, I flinched whenever she poked my skin.  We changed our minds and decided I would be the surgeon, and she would be the one to search for the foreign object.  I realized my pain tolerance was higher when I poked and pinched myself, but it was still throbbing.  After a few minutes of being unsuccessful and with growing discomfort, I gave up and said to my daughter, "Maybe I'll just live with it."  She gave me a wide-eyed look and then laughed.  She repeated my comment as a question and gave me the command that I WAS NOT going to live with it and that we needed to remove the glass.  She then took the tweezers from me and repeated the process.  Ouch!


I tried watching and then changed my mind, convincing myself that looking away would make it hurt less.  The sting was the same until my daughter shouted, "I think I got it!"  Once I heard her, my hope meter grew, I didn't care how much pain I felt.  I told my daughter to go for it and try to grab it.  She asked if I was okay a few times, but I said I didn't care and to get it.  After a few more attempts, my daughter removed the glass successfully.  Woohoo!  Thank God!  And thank my daughter for her determination and gentle hands.  


We cleaned and sanitized everything again.  We covered my new wound with a bandaid; my finger was on the correct path to healing now.  Nothing foreign was embedded into my skin this time.  


My daughter still can't believe I was willing to live with the piece of glass stuck inside.  I'm kind of surprised I would say that, too, but I was a coward and didn't want to go through the agony a second time.  However, now that I'm glass and pain-free, I would go through the suffering again to be completely healed.  


I have had my share of heartbreak that I stuffed away for another time and not allowed its proper restoration.  However, I don't want to start 2024 bringing in those scars.  It's time!  It's time to deal with and remove them correctly, even if it means walking through the anguish again. 


How about you?  Do you have anything lingering from your past that needs to be dealt with?  Let's be willing to go through the necessary surgery to be completely free and healed. 

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