Blistered.

I had what felt like, a really productive weekend. Much to my roommates’ relief, I finally made progress in our sunroom/guest room. I unpacked boxes and hung curtains, and generally cleaned things up. I also broke down all of the finished boxes to give to a bestie who is moving. Both things were needing to be accomplished and I was super happy to put a check by the mental list.

I also promised one of my roommates that I would mow our lawn. I had agreed with our landlord that this was a responsibility that we, as tenants would take on, and I had yet to cut it. She has cut it at least three times already. Yes, I am a bad roommate. I really do want follow through with what I say I will do, and yesterday afternoon I bit the bullet. It was a lovely afternoon, no warmer than 85, sunny, big billowy clouds. A charming time to be outside. Grass cuttin’ had been one of my jobs as a kid, so it didn’t seem like too big of a deal. So, I set out to get the job done… Another task to mentally check off.

It had been about 10 days since it had last been cut, and honestly, it had really grown. The mower was easy to use, self propelled, and started with just one gentle pull of the handle. I was surprised at how easily it managed. I appreciated that since it was self propelled that I didn’t have to work that hard to push it. But about half an hour into the cut, I realized my palm was stinging. I stopped for a second and saw that I was getting a small red spot. I made a mental note not to grip the handle so hard and just relax. “This is easy, no need to grip so tightly.” Boy, did I want to be in control of this mower. Now, that makes sense, right? A piece of machinery that has a sharp blade- I should be in control of it! I realized I was fighting the self-propelled motion. I would have the propel lever pulled and then, still be trying to maneuver this machine differently… Like to make a tight turn, or to go a little slower down a hill, or to make sure that I was in line with my last strip.

I got a blister. Right on the inside of my right thumb, like where you grip EVERYTHING. Water bottles. Hair dryers. Tooth brushes. Everything. It has since really made me wish I hadn’t tried so hard to control the mower so meticulously.

Being so very conscience of the details of making sure I cut the yard as perfectly as possible caused the blister. That thought has really pressed on me… I spent a lot of time with my bedazzled bestie this weekend and she’s dealing with living blisters. She went for something that didn’t work out and the process has made her raw. It’s rubbed her heart raw. We don’t always let things run the way they are meant to, we try to control them. And sometimes, when we aren’t used to the task or you’re not quite prepared for it, the task rubs a blister. I’m going to have to keep cutting the grass, because the sun comes up. It  rains. The grass grows, just the way it’s intended to.  Just like Ms. Bedazzled is going to have to keep facing what caused the blister. And eventually, the blister will callus over.

Callus.. the tissue that forms over the wounds… We aren’t always prepared, but if we choose to really LIVE, then we choose to take the on the blister and wait for it to callus over. I used to get tough calluses on my palms from sports. If I hadn’t played in a while my hands would sting and blister, but when I kept at it and took care of my hands, the blisters callused over;  in turn, my hands were BETTER prepared for next time. We have to keep living. We have to keep risking, even if that means that we blister. We have to keep at it, and trust that the wound will callus over.

My control has to be less important, so that His plan becomes more important to me.  “He must become greater; I must become less.” -John 3:30

(The Pup likes freshly cut grass.)

Next week I’ll be prepared with gloved protection and probably a follow up band-aid. Blisters can hurt for a while.

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