In their spare time, the summer staff plays a game called "I've Never". Here's how it goes: the group sits in chairs arranged in a wide circle around one person standing in the center. The person in the center completes the sentence, "I've never ______" (example: "I've never been to Europe.") and everyone who has done that has to stand up from their chair, and find a new chair to sit in before someone else gets there. The person left standing without a chair is now "it" and is responsible for the next statement.
We've got some adventurous types on our staff, but since I've not done a lot of things, I spend a lot of time sitting. I've never been to Europe, skydived, been surfing, or gone hunting like many in the group. I've also never gotten my nose pierced, had a sister, climbed Longs Peak, or been to Africa. It's fun watching everyone play, but it would be more fun if I had more shared experiences. This week, I had a couple of new experiences that may increase my participation. If anyone says, "I've never been thrown from a horse." or, "I've never dislocated a finger.", I can happily join the mad scramble for a new chair.
[Full disclosure: there is an image of the aforementioned dislocated finger below. I am stalling so that you can decide whether you want to see it, and skip it if you don't. It's pretty gross looking, and if you're at all squeamish, you should either skip it, or have a trash can handy.]
So I was having a riding lesson earlier this week, and my wrangler friend and I left the horse pen to practice trotting on some roads in the lower meadow. My wrangler friend is a great teacher, and she'd just given me some instructions when her hat blew off. I remember her hat blowing toward me and my horse, seeing my legs in the air, and picking myself up off the ground. It seems that the flying hat spooked my horse, and in my inexperience, I was unable to ride out the horse's buck and hop. I stood up pretty quickly, told Laura that I was fine, and then I spied my finger. Though it didn't hurt, it didn't look right. I looked at my friend and told her that my finger was either broken or dislocated, and that we needed to get back to the barn.
I'm aware now of the Lord's provision, big and small. I am grateful that He set me in the grass next to the road, far from the horse. I'm relieved that my finger was only dislocated and not broken. I am appreciative that I ran into Levi's babysitter on the way back to the barn so that Rob and I could get to the medical center faster. He really took care of me in the whole situation.
Rob and I were at the medical center within thirty minutes and the finger was reduced (I prefer relocated) in a short time. By the way, having my finger put back in place was not as bad as I thought it would be. Even if it took four attempts. The description that the physician's assistant gave me beforehand was worse than the actual procedure. They sent me home with a lovely finger splint and I'll return next week to have it checked.
Here's one last chance to skip the picture, if you're inclined to do so. Without further delay, I present my gnarly dislocated finger:
When you return from throwing up, do you think you might like to play "I've Never"?Lynda
