Healing the Wounds in our Souls

Photo by cottonbro studio on pexels.com A few years back I was working at a warehouse for Dippin' Dots ice cream. I was tasked with repairing a crate for a freezer we wanted to ship. I was cutting a two-by-four with a table saw and was careless for a moment. The spinning blade caught my left hand. Several fingers got mangled, especially my index finger. Upon seeing the damage, I immediately pulled my wrecked hand close to my body and cradled it in my other hand. I got a clean towel and wrapped it up to help control the bleeding. My boss drove me to the ER where they cleaned up my hand and wrapped it up more thoroughly. That night a surgeon tried to repair the index finger, but was not successful. I am now missing the tip of that finger. For many weeks, my left hand was wrapped and padded, and I was careful to treat it gently. The slightest bump meant anomy. Our natural instinct with any wound, even the smallest of paper cuts, is to pull that wounded part in closer...