A Week Without My Left Thumb

I was out in the front yard last week with a shiny baton, reliving my days as the assistant drum major of my high school marching band more than 26 years ago.  My daughter wanted to try out for drum major for her middle school band, so I had the privilege of showing her some basic spinning moves using an old baton that she borrowed from school.  Figure-eight spins.  Prop spins.  Rifle tosses.  Roundhouse spins.  As I gained confidence in the stuff that I used to do back in the days when teenage girls considered leg warmers fashionable, I drummed up the courage to try some of the more challenging moves.  I spun the baton and tossed it in the air, hoping to catch it after a couple of rotations.  It would have been an impressive catch, except that my left thumb somehow got in the way, and after the baton fell awkwardly on the lawn, I noticed a little swelling and discoloration at the point of impact.  My left thumb was pretty sore, but I wasn't too worried.  After all, it didn't appear to be broken, and since I'm right-handed, I figured that it should have only caused me minor inconvenience for a few days.

Unfortunately, the disability caused by a bruised left thumb was seriously underestimated.  The swelling lasted for more than a week, during which my left thumb looked like a plump cocktail wiener.  I learned the hard way that a working thumb on the non-dominant hand is essential for twisting open bottles, playing musical instruments, wringing towels, and grabbing the left handle bar on the bike.  Being a pediatric gastroenterologist, I also discovered that it was very difficult to put on examination gloves, and nearly impossible to perform a colonoscopy without full use of my left thumb.  For the first time in several years, I took out my disability insurance documents, wondering how much I'd be paid if my career is doomed by a permanently whacked out thumb.  Fortunately, the swelling has decreased considerably by the time that I am typing this, and full recovery should only be a few more days away, provided that I don't try to catch spinning metal rods that are falling from the sky.

Living with a disabled left thumb reminds me that while some parts of my body receive greater visibility and attention, there is no such thing as an unimportant part.  In the same way, each person  in the community of believers is a vital member of the body of Christ.  God made each of us indispensable to one another,

...so that there should be no division in the body, but that its parts should have equal concern for each other.  If one part suffers, every part suffers with it; if one part is honored, every part rejoices with it.  (1 Corinthians 12:25-26)


Wise words to live by, should I ever feel like an unimportant appendage in the body of Christ, whether it be a left thumb or a little toe.