While driving home from a dentist appointment yesterday - the umpteenth dentist appointment this year, mind you - I began to sneeze. And as I sneezed, I thought, "Oh Lord, not again!" This is the fourth time this year I've had to get a crown removed in order to rid my mouth of the decay which has crept uninvited underneath the crown. It is also the second in these aforementioned four times in which I have left the dentists' office sneezing and blowing my nose.
But enough about my sinuses. Which just happen to be low and desperately in need of a sinus lift; for if I had a sinus lift or two the roots of my teeth would not nestle around them and I perhaps could be a candidate for implants. At the very least I wouldn't walk around with cold symptoms for days after having dental work done. But enough about my lifts and my implants.
Keep in mind that all of these dental problems are due to the lack of saliva production from Sjogren's Syndrome. But enough about my spit.
In order to round out my story, I suppose I need to tell you that I was also driving in pain; for my right shoulder has been shouting out in some sort of protest for almost a year, but now it has reach its climax - uniting with my carpal tunnel syndrome to cause me to be in utter agony. This shoulder, MRI'd last spring and read by two radiologists, seems to have a myriad of things wrong with it: tendonitis, bursititis, encapsulititis, synovitis, impingement syndrome, and bone spurs. Take your pick. And this same shoulder has been sent on its way by an orthopedists, neurologist, and rheumatologist (although the rheumatologist gave me an ineffective cortisone shot just one week ago.) But enough about the the nuts and bolts that loosely keep my together.
Point is. . . I was thinking about one of my favorite lines in the Psalms which - in my quest to be ever-grateful and oh-so-positive - I try to recite as one of my mantras at least once a day:
I praise you
for I am wonderfully made.
Now that very same Psalm also contains the words which you see up in that graphic at the beginning of this post: "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." I absolutely love the imagery there. Think about it: No nuts and bolts there, but a vision of God patiently knitting away and tenderly placing me in my mother's womb before I was born. Incredible.
But on my way home, between low-sinus sneezes, I started to think about this. Are we sure God didn't drop a stitch or two during the creation process? Of me. I'm thinking solely of me here.
But on my way home, between low-sinus sneezes, I started to think about this. Are we sure God didn't drop a stitch or two during the creation process? Of me. I'm thinking solely of me here.
Perhaps he got distracted for a moment or two.
Perhaps the angels were throwing a party and he had to tell them to shush down.
Perhaps two of his disciples were having a tiff.
Perhaps St. Peter needed help deciphering God's writing in the Naughty and Nice book.
But I think that the most likely reason of all is that God perhaps gets bored and crochets some of us. That's it! He crocheted me and then placed me in my mother's womb (for we all know I'm somewhat undun!)
But still . . .
But still . . .
I praise you
for I am wonderfully made!
