whilst generally bordering on loquaciousness, single-handed typing has inspired me to explore the world of verbal restraint. one month of living one-handed lies ahead, left hand immobilized, awaiting healing of the tendon fashioned into a graft, replacing my basal thumb joint. that is the bottom one, attaching to the carpal bones of the wrist.
i envisioned more wilderness time with God during this recovery- after my right hand i enjoyed amazing fellowship and intimacy with the Lord. this time i'm distracted. different place. different focus. i don't like it.
a sleeping passion has been awakened. i want a sailboat. i re-live my sailing days every night through dreams. awakened from a sound sleep by my own yelp, searing pain in my hand ... the realization slowly dawns that the jibsheet i'm winching in is only a dream and i can let go now.
the plastic bag technique failed this morning, so i drenched my cast/dressing in the shower. my arm is soggy. yik. i don't like it.
too emotional. thanks, hormones.... i don't like it. don't think jake does either.
i want my wilderness back... i don't like it here.
God - momentarily taciturn. moments feel like a long time. what do you mean "welcome to my wilderness?"