Little cuts.

Over the past two weeks I have injured myself (minorly) about a gazillion times. Every time I do it, I want to kick myself because it was easily avoidable, but that would inflicted more pain, so I don’t.
I gashed my ankle while shaving. If you’ve never done this, then when I tell you that I spent half an hour lying on my bathroom floor pressing tissues on my ankle and trying to elevate it above my heart, you won’t understand why. Ankles bleed. A lot.
I also cut myself with a carrot peeler. Then reopened the wound the next day when I was using excessive force to make a lump of clay into a ball in the art room. (I wanted to throw a clay pot on the wheel, but if you’re bleeding, that’s not a good idea. Blood in clay, clay in wound. Yuck.)
I hit my finger on the side of the glaze cabinet in the art room, which also bled.
I brought my knee down hard on the corner of my bedframe. Instant bruise, also a small cut with a minor amount of blood. (have I ever mentioned my disgust with blood/tendency to faint at it on here?)
Scraped my leg with a window. I know that doesn’t seem like it would work unless I was climbing out the window, but it worked. We were cleaning them, and in order to clean these windows, you have to take them out of the frames.
Also scraped my arm on some unknown object last Thursday. It left a scrape.
Then, to top it all off, I dropped a full Nalgene on two of my middle toes on my right foot a couple days ago.
As you can tell, I am one of the most coordinated individuals in the world. Also, I have a sort of battered body right now with many scrapes and bruises. All gained from my stupidity or lack of gracefulness. And I have probably missed a few of the hurtful incidents.
It’s yet another image that displays my imperfection (surprising how many of those there are, isn’t it?), and it makes me think about how scarred and bruised my heart is. How that isn’t visible. Not like I’m dying from heartache here; I haven’t had anything drastically hurt me or leave me broken, and I know that Jesus heals the little scars everyday.
But I can’t see other people’s heart scars. I can’t see the wounds that have been inflicted. I can’t see the emotional effects of the times they’ve inflicted pain on themselves. Yet they have little cuts and bruises too, just like my collection from the past couple weeks.
Something I need to be more mindful of. People are fragile; handle with care.

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