The Storm Before the Storm
I can't imagine the insanity from the past several days being anything other than Jesus Christ having a hand in our lives. I was at work Friday, and a fellow was playing with a pair of scissors (didn't we all learn something in kindergarten about that?), and my hand got cut. My left hand, on the inside of my thumb. Now, for you non-guitar players out there, we'll suffice it to say, that's bad news. So, after seven hours of bleeding (yep, seven), Kat finally said, "I'm taking you to the emergency room. Get in the car. Now." Thank God for intellegent wives that marry stubborn men. I am currently typing with a glued digit, and feeling somewhat like Frankenstein's monster. It's ugly (you know it's ugly when you, your wife, and two different nurses say so), but it's healing.
But today is packing day, and cleaning day. And also a day of appreciating how much I use my thumbs. Every task seems to go a little slower, from towelling dry to turning pages. Plus, Kat has taken ill in the past couple days, coughing and walking around the house in a fever-induced and zombified state. Curse you, scissors! It's harder to take care of a sick wife with a bum finger. I still can't believe that we're both leaving in three days. We feel quite at the mercy of Jesus right now, and it's a little frustrating, but I won't say that it's not the best place to be. I've prayed for brokenness, and I'm glad that it has come. Also, we understand more and more that there is a presence that does not want us to live out the Great Commission, and it feels good to know that we are threatening that presence.
I've learned a bit about overseas travel, and about travel with an instrument. I was paranoid beyond all reason for a while (somewhere between a rat in a snake pit and Dick Cheney at a Green Peace meeting) about my guitar being anything but carry-on. But after talking to some folks who've travelled with guitars, and praying a bit over it, I'm more accustomed to the idea. Furthermore, I can't pack more than fifty pounds in my checked luggage (per bag, and you only get two bags). So, my souvenir was going to be a native Scotsman, but I don't think I'll be bringing one back. I'll have to settle for a book or something. I've also learned that waiting sucks. I'm not patient at all. This, I'm sure, is on the list of things to be changed.
Added to all this, I've got a few shows popping up in places - including places that I've desired for a long time to play. I've had little time to walk in the quiet and think. I believe I'll take some of that today.