Smashed Hand

The warnings were insistent; there was a freeze alert for the early hours of Sunday. The very heavy concrete birdbath had water in it, and I felt I had to dismantle it. I was confident I could lift off the top and set it on the ground, since I had done this by myself only two years ago. It did not go as planned. It was too heavy for me, even with the water removed. My hand ended up between the top and the stand. As I heaved, it slid over my hand onto the ground. Instant pain shot through me, and I tore off the gardening glove. There was no blood! I could move all my fingers with nothing flopping in the wind! I rushed inside to run cold water over three of the fingers, because I couldn’t tell what had been damaged. Keeping the hand elevated seemed the thing to do until the tip of the ring finger started turning purple. A tiny mug was perfect for holding one ice cube and one finger, so I did that off and on the rest of the day.

From the time I saw the hand could move until now, I have given constant thanks to God for protecting me. It could have been so awful! I’m not worrying in reverse. I’m grateful the damage was not serious.