Broken thumbs are dumb // part three

ALL THINGS REALLY DO WORK TOGETHER FOR GOOD.

I guess Jesus knew what he was talking about after all.

It took me 4 weeks to come to grips (ha!) with the fact that my broken thumb wasn't all bad. Sure, it's annoying when you're trying to shave or open boxes (especially when there's food inside those boxes and you're really hungry.) but all things considered, I still have it pretty easy.

The broken thumb threw a wrench in my plans. No going in the ocean over Spring Break, no handwriting for school or pleasure (a blessing and a curse.) It was hard for me to watch softball games at first. I was jealous! And this time not about the fact that they could throw the ball well, but that they could actually throw it at all.

It showed me that I'm not in control.

And I didn't like that very much. 

God has a funny way of teaching us things. Sometimes its through people or experiences. Sometimes, it's a broken bone. And one day it hit me that the entire ordeal of breaking my thumb wasn't just so I could be annoyed or irritated or drop my phone 1000x per day (#coordination), but so that I could learn something. What is God teaching me, you ask? I wanted to find out before another thumb was broken to get my attention.

After checking out at Target a few days ago,  the thought "I'll miss my splint!" popped into my head. I took it back a few seconds later, I hate my splint! It's horrible!....or is it? My right hand has been suffocated by savage looking splints and bandages for the past month, and within that month (and because of that splint) I've had the opportunity to talk to more people than ever before.

The little neighbor girls ask about it every time I walk by, it'll be the thing to stir up a conversation with an old friend. Heck, even the 7-11 employees are convinced I broke it doing extreme thumb wrestling. I've heard more life stories, regaling of broken limbs from strangers and I've loved every second of getting to talk to different people. And I'm grateful for this fractured, fragment of a thumb because without it, I wouldn't have had the opportunity or a reason to talk to any of them.

So next time you break your thumb, it's okay to be mad at it and yell about it if you must and eat some chocolate (if you can get the package open). But then, take a chill pill (or some ibuprofen) and see what God is trying to teach you. Because whatever that is, it's always worth the pain, the tears and the difficulty of showering with your dominant hand wrapped a garbage bag.

I PROMISE.

(Thanks to sarah for these photos! And thank you to everyone who has been so wonderful to me during this process.)