A Wrong Position

My chisel found my knee. I had taken a wrong position over the massive red oak log that I am spending time on. That wrong position allowed the razor sharp carving tool to slip through the strong and sinewy fibers of the twelve hundred pound log.  In less than a hundredth of a second I saw the cleanly cut hole through my jeans and the unwanted red stain beginning to appear. The walk from the barn to the house helped the nice gash bleed a little more.

After some verbal sparing with my wife, and a daughter who is a nurse, three butterfly bandages closed the wound. I did promise them that I would get a shot, if I felt lock-jaw coming on, just kidding. I will probably get the shot today.

In a flash memories of another incident came to mind. For a few years after moving to the north we were rather cash depleted. We depended on venison for our source of meat and I was fortunate enough to be a good shot. As I was field dressing the latest victim of my prowess the wrong position was soon to bite me. My pearl handled hunting knife slipped in my wet hands and the first inch or so of the knife stuck me in the knee. The wound was deep enough to sever an artery and a speedy trip to the distant hospital was on.

My point is this: my wrong position over the log brought on a wound. It will only be for a short time, but my ability to act and accomplish required tasks is now slowed a bit. I still carry the reminder of the wrong position with my hunting knife in hand.

How many of us take the wrong position and than carry around the wound. My knee will heal in a couple of days, if I don't do something stupid. My heart takes much longer. Being able to admit that we have taken a wrong position on life issues takes guts, and a bit of humility.