HEALING HANDS: DAY FIFTY FOUR WHAT IS YOUR PURPOSE?

There are parts on the body that stand out above the rest. Of course the head is above the rest and the toes or bottom of heal below, but everyone has their own preference and an be called either a "Boobs & Butt Man" or a "Chest Lady" or even "Hips and Feet People". We all discover beauty in different places on our bodies. I love faces and beautiful healthy curves. I enjoy a gracious unforgettable smile, loving laughter, and a sweet curious voice who asks questions. When I was 4.5 years old living in the San Bernardino Mountains in the town of Lake Arrowhead my papa ran a local high school called Rim of the World. As kids of the principal we had free range to roam within its grounds, open up gates, and utilize its facilities at our leisure. One weekend afternoon my papa introduced my siblings and I to the weight room. Under his supervision of course. I always being a curious explorer went around using the machines that I was capable of pushing, pulling, and lifting. My brother was sitting down using the leg press machine and announced that there wasn't enough weight and wanted to change its quantity. I was always doing best to better my brother and minutes earlier figured out the PIN MECHANISM on how to change the metal plates that were stacked on the machines. Little did I know what would happen next. As my papa always preaches, "No Good Deed Goes Unpunished." I knew how to wiggle the pin out of the weights, but didn't know if someone has the weights airborne and you take the pin out, then they will fall to their demise and crush/rip any little fingers placed on the bottom of their pile. I was always told it was 50lbs or so, my brother may tell you different. It didn't matter what the pounds were, my middle finger and ring finger of my left hand were flatten down to quarter width, split like bananas, and had crushed knuckles with a lifelong chip in one. We went to two hospitals that day; local emergency and down the hill specialist. My fingers were way too spit open to stitch up, so all they could do was wrap my little sausages up and hope for the best. The most painful  day of my life was the day after when my early-waking-for-work papa had to get me up and re-wrap my newly damaged hand before heading off to school. The 1980s gauze had stuck to the insides, my blood drained body was aching, and my hand throbbing. I had to soak that hand for 3 months in unforgettable smelling solution. My hand is fully functional, a little stiff with definite nerve damage, with a fat abnormal shape and lifelong scars, but I am typing here with you no problem. I always say GOD has cursed me through my hands. Being an athlete I had my share of broken/dislocated fingers playing catcher in baseball, center in AmericanFootball, and as an all-star goalie defending the enemy in futbol. Through the years though my reactive angry temper got my hands in the mixed up in some painful trouble. Put yourself in this situation as a jealous-in the Zone boyfriend who planned a whole romantic out in the town college San Francisco FridayNightDateNight, and then receives news that it will be a rain check change of plans. I was pissed and did my best to strike my right hand through a cement dorm room wall. The wall wall didn't budge a bit, but my fifth metacarpal didn't withstand the strike and snapped, changing my Friday Night into a night in the emergency room and an early Saturday morning on the operating table. The doctor put a cast on it originally, but the pinkie bone would keep slipping out. Therefore a beautifully crafted incision was made over the bone to re-set it in place and then a 2.5 metal rod with rubber out of skin handle was laid on top of the bone to keep sturdy for 1.5 months. Once again scarred for life, another battle wound, but I am not finished. If any of you know how pick up basketball works, then you are aware that if your team wins, your team keeps playing. It was the 3rd game at a local park where you play up to 13, and we were on the 12th point, so I was hurting with exhaustion, but always determined to win. I called a foul on my opponent who disliked the call and shoved the ball at my chest. Once again my reactive ego got the best of me as I proceeded to chuck the ball at the guys head as he was walking away. I was spot on and so was the guy who rushed me and got in some good ones real quick. It wasn't pretty. It had been awhile since I was engaged in a fight and I was on the court for hours playing intense ball. He caught me off guard, but I was saved since he was a long-hair and was able to run my left hand through his head and upper-cut him with my right. I was exhausted and gave in, gave up, and walked away wounded for life. I have a noticeable  knot on the top of my right hand just above my wrist. Another internal hand memory brought upon me by ego. I was reminded today that I must be more gentle with myself. Take life's decisions more slowly, more maturely and with gracious HEALING HANDS. Blessings Your Way- RVB