Yesterday, my oldest daughter was using an old knife in the tack room to open a package of meds, slipped while applying pressure, and stabbed herself in the middle of her other palm. Delightful. After a consultation with me about the date of her last tetanus shot, she headed to urgent care, prepared for a long wait and hours taken from her day which she really didn’t have to spare.

Maddie has an amazingly high pain threshold. She doesn’t fall apart over stuff like this; truly, I’d be afraid I was about to lose her if she did because I’d know it was BAD. So, when she got there, she was very calm and just a had a bandage around her hand, not seeming all that urgent. However, she’d barely sat down at the clinic before they rushed her on back and began soaking and cleaning her wound. The doctor got right in and treated with adhesive “stitches,” gave her a tetanus shot, and sent her off with a prescription for antibiotics and pain meds. In and out in no time flat. Pleased, off she went to Walgreens for her prescriptions.

This time, she had it bandaged a little more professionally, and was holding it against herself like you do when you’ve hurt your hand. People began addressing her with concern.

“Oh, did you burn your hand?”

“What happened, dear?”

And as they left the pharmacy…

“Best of luck to you with that hand.”

She said she’d never had so much attention and she kind of felt bad that it wasn’t more of a wound!

I’ve been thinking about it since. I find it interesting that we go out of our way to be kind to people with obvious wounds or outward signs of medical conditions, like casts, or crutches, etc. We open doors for them, ask how they are, and do what we can to help. But otherwise, we are silent, or short, or, in some cases, even a little rude with people. We tend to ourselves, or those for whom we’re immediately responsible, and don’t notice the drawn looking woman behind us in line. We shake our heads at the checker at the grocery store whose hair and dress suggest extreme living, and rush past the young mom with the screaming kids.

What of their wounds? They are not wrapped in fresh white gauze, but they are there nonetheless, lying beneath the surface…the recent cancer diagnosis that is causing that woman to look so drawn, the abuse and/or neglect that plagues that checker, the husband who is married to his work leaving that young wife and mother so overwhelmed. If they aren’t obvious wounds, we don’t see them, or…

Maybe if we don’t notice, we can pretend they don’t exist at all, and then maybe they won’t rub off on us.

Christ wasn’t afraid to get His hands dirty. He always noticed the pain that lies beneath and always became involved. I’m thankful He still does, and encourages us to do the same. I bet you can remember when someone took time to notice a wound of yours. It turned things around, yes? Even for a moment? Maybe, just maybe, if we dare to become involved, it will turn everything around, not just for a moment, but, perhaps, even a lifetime.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18 ESV

“Then, leaving her water jar, the woman went back to the town and said to the people, “Come, see a man who told me everything I ever did.” John 4:28-29 NIV

“A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”John 13:34-35 ESV

“Let brotherly love continue. Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:1-2 ESV