A week or so back I ran into a wall, twice. It was in the middle of an intense squash game, but that really is not an excuse. I look back, knowing it was my sloppy play that led to the collisions. I could have controlled the play better, I could have stretched instead of running through, I could have done a lot of things that I did not! With the first encounter, I noted that my wrist hurt. With the second, I was visibly holding my racquet with care. My wrist hurt regardless of what I did or did not do. In typical fashion, I played on. I pushed myself, grimacing and adjusting my grip to minimize the sharp ache and pain stabs when I moved.
With time, the pain triggers of certain movements, one in particular, have lingered. In visiting an acupuncturist, he asked about the event. As he felt his way through the wrist, his nodding head told me he was discovering the problem. As he asked me about the level of pain while moving my hand into different positions, I responded with calm and facts. It worked, for a time. With one final move, I lost all sense of control, fighting a shooting pain and smothering blackness of anything else.
Within a few minutes, I had multiple needles in my wrist and arm. The current controlled muscle contractions and my mind drifted in and out. I was ok with one or two pricks, but the combination of multiple pricks was threatening to overwhelm. As I struggled with my emotions, I realized I was fighting a familiar experience that comes when everything closes end, overwhelming hope.
I always struggle for the right words. I have said “they put poison in my soup, vinegar in my drink.” (Psalm 69.21) I have flagged that I am being hit from all sides. Regardless of my words, the feeling of overwhelming darkness dominates.
In moments like these, Life invites me to let go and let others help. Help is around us. We are not alone. Hope lives.
