What I'm Reading

My senior year of seminary we had a guest presenter for a couple days during our Church History class. Roger Fjeld, a previous president of Wartburg Seminary, came to talk to us about the history of the Lutheran Church in the United States.

I sometimes think that history can be a bit dry and not always that exciting, but I have to say I was riveted. I couldn't get enough of what Roger was saying, especially as he talked about the years leading up to the merger of the LCA (Lutheran Church in America), the ALC (American Lutheran Church), and the AELC (Association of Evangelical Lutheran Churches) into the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America).

He told us about the schism in the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod (LCMS) over disagreements about Biblical interpretation, among other things. This schism led to the AELC, as well as Concordia Seminary in Exile, which later became Christ Seminary-Seminex. The AELC then became a voice for Lutheran unity and was an impetus for conversations about a new Lutheran church which eventually led to the merger of the three Lutheran bodies and the creation of the ELCA, at that time the fourth largest protestant church body in the United States.

This kind of stuff fascinates me. I could hear about it and talk about it for hours. So, when Roger Fjeld mentioned a couple of books that were written about this subject, I think it was almost immediately after class that I got onto a computer and found and purchased these books.

Now, I have to admit that I have a severe case of A.D.D. when it comes to reading. I'll start a book and read for a bit, but then I'll see another book I think looks interesting so I'll start to read that and lose interest in the first one. So I've started to read one of the books a couple of times, but each time I'd get distracted by a different book. But this time I sat down to read one of the books and I'm currently on the last chapter. I've almost made it!

This book is "Anatomy of a Merger" by Edgar Trexler. Trexler served in the LCA as the editor of their periodical The Lutheran, and went on to continue to be the editor of The Lutheran when it became the publication of the ELCA. So he was present as media at all of the meetings and conventions that led up to the merger.

It's a bit dry, sometimes it felt like I was looking through really extensive minutes from a church council meeting. But it gave a inside look at what led up to the merger - the struggles and the joys, the ego trips and the compromises, the long journey and finally the celebration when the three churches voted at their respective assemblies to merge into this new church.

There were lots of people involved in this process, too. People like Barbara Lundblad, who now serves as Professor of Preaching at Union Seminary in New York. Herbert Chilstrom was very involved, and served as the first presiding bishop of the ELCA. Will Herzfeld was also very involved, and was a strong voice for the inclusion of minorities and women (sidenote: Herzfeld was an associate of Martin Luther King, Jr. and served as the bishop of the AELC making him the first African-American to lead a U.S. Lutheran church body. He also came to speak at my college when I was a student there and, had I really known all of this about him at the time, I probably would have taken more time to get to know him and hear his story). Even Stanley Olson is mentioned who was serving as a synod bishop at the time but then went on to be the Executive Director of the unit for Vocation and Education in the ELCA and now serves as the current president of Wartburg Seminary.

It's really quite an interesting story. It's about people trying to discern what God might be calling us as Lutherans to be about and to do, and seeking to be a united group and a unified voice. It wasn't a perfect process, there were little groups that broke off and didn't want to merge, there were people who thought things went too far or not far enough. But they worked together and compromised and tried their best to do what they discerned to be the will of God.

Next in line is the book "High Expectations" also by Trexler which is sort of the follow-up to "Anatomy of a Merger." In this second book, Trexler details the first few years of the ELCA as it began to get its feet and figure itself out.

Then, the next book is "Memoirs in Exile" by John Tietjen. Now this should really be interesting. Tietjen was president of Concordia Seminary in St Louis, MO which was the flagship seminary (I think) of the Lutheran Church-Missouri Synod. They got into a "discussion" about the use of the historical-critical method of Biblical interpretation and whether it should be used, or not. Tietjen led the group that left the seminary and started the AELC and Concordia Seminary in Exile. This book is the story of his experiences during that time.

So that's what is on my list of things to read. If you've read this far, I'm impressed. I think when I sat down to write this blog entry it seemed a lot more exciting and fascinating in my head. But then, I am a self-avowed church nerd and this kind of thing really does interest me.

Is there a draft in here?

Is there a draft in here? or, The Movement of the Holy Spirit in the ELCA Assignment Process

This week is Regional Assignments for ELCA seminarians. It's an interesting process full of excitement and uncertainty. It's exciting to know that you are learning about your future, but it's uncertain because you don't have all the control over what you're learning.

You see, among all the paperwork and essay writing you do in the candidacy process, your senior year you fill out some forms to let the ELCA know where you would like to end up. The ELCA is separated into 9 regions and within those regions there are 65 synods. On the paperwork, you are given the opportunity to let the ELCA know where in the midst of all of them you'd like to go.

You have a few options on how you'd like to do this. One option is to restrict. You can say that you only want to end up in a certain synod (or perhaps synods). They give you space, then, to explain why you are restricting. Perhaps you have a spouse who has a job they love, or a loved one with health concerns that you want to be near. Or any number of reasons really. The synod(s) you choose to restrict to then have the option to approve or deny your restriction.

Another option is the "go anywhere" box. There is a box on the form that you can check that let the synods and bishops know that you are open to going anywhere, without preference. There is some excitement in checking that box and leaving the future wide open. But, then you have to really be open to going anywhere. As in South Carolina, or Western North Dakota, or Kentucky, or Missouri, or Nebraska, or Wyoming, or Delaware, or New Mexico... basically anywhere. I mean, you could get upset if you ended up somewhere you didn't like, but then why'd you check the "go anywhere" box? A note about this particular option, you would think that bishops and synods would like this option. Here is someone who is open to the process and willing to go anywhere to serve the mission of the Church. But, in conversation with a handful of them my senior year of seminary, they said that they know that people have preferences. There are places you would like to end up and places you would not like to end up. So let them know where you'd like to end up.

To do that, you have the third option of checking the "open to anywhere, but with preferences" box. This option says that there are places you would prefer to end up. Then, it gives you space to write down three regions of the ELCA you would prefer. And then, within those three regions, you are allowed to choose three synods in each. This gives you the opportunity to express where you would like to end up, but it leaves you open to other possibilities, too. Most people, in my experience, choose this option. The bishops I referred to in my previous paragraph said that they try to honor one of your preferences, but that is not always the case. Sometimes people end up somewhere that wasn't on their radar. Often times it's because bishops and synod staff have ideas for that particular person. But sometimes it just happens.

Now, after all the forms are sent in, bishops and synod staff members and seminary presidents get together in what we call "The Draft." We call it that because it seems to be very similar to something like the NFL or NBA draft. You have all these candidates looking to be rostered leaders in the ELCA, the seminary presidents representing them and you have all these synods with spots they want to fill. Now I cannot write with any certainty what this process actually looks like, as I've never been to the draft. I want, with every fiber of my being, to see what happens there, to watch the interaction between the bishops and synod staff as they sort through the candidates. But somehow, at the end of the day, all of the candidates are assigned to a region.

Then, the presidents return to their schools and let the students know what region they've been assigned. Then the students wait (sometimes a couple days, sometimes a couple weeks) for a phone call from a bishop letting them know which synod they've landed in. This is a nerve wracking time for seminary students. It can be an exciting time (for those who are open to going anywhere, or receive an assignment they are happy about) and it can be an upsetting time (to someone who has their restriction denied or who gets an assignment they didn't list as a preference). I am sure that all involved in the process - ELCA, regions, synods, seminaries, students and families - would love your prayers.

Even though it's been five years now since I was in the process, I remember it vividly. As I mentioned before, there was a group of about five bishops who showed up on the campus of Wartburg Seminary my senior year. It was an annual event, a different group of bishops showed up each year to talk to the senior students and spouses, to give them some sort of idea of what the assignment process looked like. After a time of questions and answers (where I asked about checking the "go anywhere" box, which I was seriously contemplating) there was a wine and cheese reception.

It was at this reception that I happened to have a long conversation with one of the bishops. He was representing a synod out in Pennsylvania, which at that time was nowhere on my radar. But we hit it off famously and had a wonderful conversation. At the end of the evening he asked if he could take my name so that, when it came time for regional assignments, he could make sure to request me for his synod. Excited at this prospect, I gave him my name.

Then, as I filled out my assignment paperwork, I would often e-mail him asking his advice on how to fill parts of it out so that I would end up in his synod. I picked Region 7 as my first choice, since that's the region where his synod was. I put his synod as my first choice, followed by Metro New York and Upstate New York. I then picked Region 5, which is Iowa, Illinois and Wisconsin, and chose three synods in Wisconsin as my preferences in that region. Then, as my third choice I picked Region 3, which is North and South Dakota and Minnesota. At that time, I really only wanted to end up in Northeast Minnesota, as some of my best friends were in that synod at that time. But I was afraid if I only chose one synod and left the other two options blank, that it might leave me open to ending up somewhere else in that region. So I put the Minneapolis and St Paul Area Synods in those two open spots because I knew there really was no reason I would end up in either. The "word on the street" was that there are waiting lists for both synods of seminary graduates looking for calls in these synods. No way a Wartburg grad would end up there.

I met with my seminary's president and showed him my paperwork. He said that if I put that particular synod as my first choice, and that the bishop there was asking for me, it was pretty certain that I would end up there. He also said that I could scratch the Minneapolis and St Paul synods off of my list because Wartburg grads never ended up there. I told him that was pretty much why they were on the list.

Finally, it was Assignment Day. My class gathered with our families in one of the rooms on campus. Staff and faculty showed up to support us. Our Academic Dean shared a few words and then sealed envelopes were passed out. Inside those envelopes was our future. Some quickly opened them, some were more tentative. I think I was a quick one. I pulled out the letter, knowing I was going to see Region 7 printed on that paper. But, lo and behold, there was Region 3. I was a little taken aback, perhaps a bit upset. But I knew that it was a preference I had listed and so I couldn't be angry about it.

I figured, then, that I was going to end up in Northeast Minnesota. That made the most sense to me, but I also knew that it wasn't written in stone. I could still end up in Southeast MN or Western North Dakota or anywhere in between. So I learned the names of the different bishops and prepared myself to sound excited regardless which voice was on the other end of the phone.

Well, a few days later I was doing my work study job down in the youth room of the seminary. There were kids running all over. Some were watching a show on TV, a few were playing a game on the computer, and little Erica was smacking the daylights out of a large, bouncy ball with a wiffle ball bat. And that's when my cellphone vibrated. And that's when I found out that I had been assigned to the Minneapolis Area Synod. I was the first Wartburg Seminary grad "in memorable history" to get assigned to that synod. And it had been my second synod preference in my third regional preference, and had been put there simply to hold a spot not because I actually thought I'd end up there.

But that was five years ago now. I have been in my current congregation since then (well, about six months after that) and have been greatly blessed by the people I serve and the ministry I do. It was not what I was expecting, and not really the place I had been hoping to end up in, but the Holy Spirit is funny that way. God can take our best laid plans and mix them all up until they don't look anything like what we imagined, but if we are faithful and trust that God knows what God is doing, and we open ourselves to the work of the Spirit in our lives, the result can be amazing. This might not have been where I was expecting to end up, but I wouldn't have had it any other way.

So my prayers go out to you, my brothers and sisters who will find out tomorrow (Wednesday) what your Regional Assignment will be. Enter in this process with excitement and trust and faith that even if you don't end up where you've been planning, that God has amazing things in store for you.

Christ in Christmas

In the past few years, it seems that there has been a rise in the concern about "keeping Christ in Christmas." There are two specific instances that people who share this concern lift up as their proof that this is a valid worry.

The first is the use of Xmas instead of Christmas. They think that the X is crossing out Christ, and thus taking him out of the holiday. If we come at it from a U.S. centric viewpoint it is easy to see why this might be the case. An X is often what we use to mark things off of a list, or to negate something. So, I can understand why it might be a concern for some people when they see the X instead of Christ. But what we need to do is broaden

our viewpoint a bit. We need to realize that USAmericans do not have the corner of the market on Christ and, in fact, people believed in Jesus and worshiped him for thousands of years before we were even a country.

The New Testament is what tells us what we know about the life, death, resurrection and teachings of Jesus Christ. It was originally written in Greek. The Greek word for Christ, which means Savior, is Χριστός or Christos. The first two letters the Χ and the ρ, or the Chi and the Rho are sometimes used to represent Christ. Like this picture, for instance:

Sometimes, it is just shortened to the X, or the Chi. That is why Christmas is sometimes abbreviated as Xmas. It's not an attempt to take Christ out of Christmas. It is using a Greek symbol to represent Christ, which is something that has been done for around 1,000 years. Use it if you want to. If you don't want to, then don't. But please don't assume that the people who do use it are pushing some sort of anti-Jesus agenda. I use it sometimes, and I'm one of the most pro-Jesus people you'll come across.

The second thing is the argument against "Happy Holidays." People seem to believe that we should always say "Merry Christmas" because that is what the holiday is this time of year. Now, I love Christmas and I love to celebrate. So, I love to celebrate Christmas. But I know people who are not Christian. They might be Jewish, or Muslim or even atheist. But, for whatever reason, not all of my friends celebrate Christmas in the same way that I do, or at all. To say, "Merry Christmas!" to my Jewish friend would not be the best thing to say to her since she celebrates Hanukkah and not Christmas. In the same way, in a store or walking down the street, just by looking at someone I cannot discern if they are Christian or Jewish or Muslim, or if they celebrate Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or maybe nothing at all. To assume that they are Christian or celebrate Christmas could be insulting or offensive. People might say that this is a Christian nation, but, truthfully, our country has no official religion. It was formed on the principle of freedom of religion, so that people could be free to worship how and when and what they choose. Just because I am a big fan of Jesus and I celebrate Christmas does not mean that everyone else is or does. So, to people who I know share the same beliefs as me, I wish them a Merry Christmas. If I know that they are of a different faith background, or am unsure, I will often choose to go with Happy Holidays in an attempt to respect where they are at, and to acknowledge that Christmas is not the only holiday celebrated at this time of year, not as an attempt to forget about Christmas.

We are a diverse country, and I think we will continue to diversify. We need to figure out how to live together in peaceful and healthy ways. Part of living together is respecting where people are at and what they believe. I think saying Happy Holidays is a good way to do that this time of year. Now, I know not everyone agrees with me. And, since this is a free country, you are indeed allowed to say Merry Christmas all you want. But, as I said, this is a free country and so we need to respect everyone else's freedom to live and celebrate how they choose.

So, this is how I feel about these two arguments. I don't think they are really anything to get worked up about. I think, if we are concerned about people trying to get rid of Christ, then we need to live our lives in such a way that positively reflects Christ, and in that way show everyone how our lives are enriched by knowing and believing in Jesus. Getting up in arms about the words people use, and arguing about it or trying to force people to see things or do things our way is not a constructive use of our time. Reaching out and helping others, caring for their needs, actually BEING the hands and feet of Christ in the world... now THAT is how we should be spending our time.

Dedicating my life

When I think of my faith journey, and when I became a child of God, my mind is drawn to a summer many years ago. I must have been eleven or so years old and I was at Camp Rock, a camp of the American Missionary Fellowship, out in the western end of Nebraska (no, it wasn't a performing arts camp like the movies on the Disney Channel). I, the pastor's son, had gone on the invitation of my best friend who really didn't have any ties to a church, at least that I knew of.

It was in the later part of the week and the entire camp was gathered around a large bonfire. We were singing songs and having a good time when one of the counselors walked forward. She was carrying a bundle of branches in her arms. She stood before us and invited us to come forward, as we felt called, and to take one of these branches and to toss it in the fire as we declared in front of the rest of the camp that we were dedicating our lives to God.

Now, this was not something with which I was familiar. The community of German Lutherans, to which I belonged, did not do this on a Sunday morning. But, as camper after camper, kids I had gotten to know and befriend during the week, stepped forward, accepted a branch and then tossed it in as they dedicated their lives to God, I began to feel something stir.

Mustering my courage, I walked up to the counselor, took a branch and with a wavering voice said, "My name is Mark Lepper and I dedicate my life to God." As I tossed my branch into the fire, I felt great. When I got home from camp a day or two later, I could not wait to tell my Dad what I had done.

"Hey, Dad! Guess what I did at camp!"

He looked at me and asked, "What?" He was probably assuming I was going to tell him something like I had accidentally shot my counselor during archery or how I managed to not come in dead last in the foosball tournament.

I proudly declared, "I dedicated my life to God!"

"Oh," he replied. "That already happened at your baptism."

That is when it all started for me. It wasn't a choice I made on my own, fueled by the excitement and joy of a bonfire at camp, or because all of the kids who I thought were cool and popular were doing it. It wasn't my decision at all.

It was when the water and the word washed over me, removing all traces of my old, sinful self and filled me with the Holy Spirit. It is when the clouds parted and the Spirit descended and God broke into my life and said, "Mark Bradley Lepper, You are My son, my beloved, with you I am well pleased!"

That is when I became a child of God.

That is when God staked a claim on me and my life.

And I have never been the same since.

The Giving of Thanks

A long time ago, in a faraway land known as Ohio, there lived a young maiden. This girl lived in a cottage with her older brother and her parents. This cottage had been built on that land by the young maiden's grandfather, and the family had lived there ever since.

Not far from this cottage, there lived a young man. He had lived with his parents and two younger brothers, but had recently left their home to pursue higher learning. On one of his journeys he came across the maiden from the cottage, and the two fell deeply in love.

As often happens in stories like this, the two were soon married. The man continued to pursue higher education, and eventually completed all of the requirements to become a pastor. The People in Charge decided that this young man and his wife, despite having lived their entire lives in the Kingdom of Ohio, should embark on a new journey in an uncharted territory. And so the young man and his wife packed up all of their earthly belongings and headed off to the wild kingdom of Nebraska.

There they lived for many years. They raised three sons and a handful of dogs and cats. They never forgot their family in Ohio and would sometimes make the journey back to see their loved ones there. Their three sons grew and flourished and soon they began their own journeys. The eldest enlisted in the Royal Guard, becoming an officer in the King's Navy. The second son became a guard of one of the King's dungeons. The youngest, well, no one is really ever sure what he's up to. But what we do know is that, this past week, he made the journey from his home in the frozen tundra in the north to the Kingdom of his Ancestors. He traveled to see his family and loved ones in the Kingdom of Ohio.

So, that's what I've been up to lately. I just got back from spending Thanksgiving with my extended family in Ohio. It was a great time, I got to see a lot of my favorite people, and to eat some wonderful food. I learned all sorts of things about Pokemon, watched the same episodes of children's tv shows over and over, reconnected with some family I haven't seen in too long, and had a great time.

The drive was long, about 13 hours. I left on a Friday and spent the night in a hotel in western Ohio. Then I started off again on Saturday morning and arrived at my cousin's house before lunch. I got to spend a lot of time with her family. She has three boys ages 9, 5 and 2 and so I always had something to do when I was with them. I also got to spend a lot of time with my 20 year old Godson who also happens to be the son of my other cousin (who is the brother of my previously mentioned cousin). I got to see quite a bit of my uncle who my first name is named after (on a side note, my middle name comes from my other uncle, the previously mentioned uncle's younger brother, who both happen to be the younger brothers of my dad). Then both of these uncles and their spouses, three cousins, one spouse and three kids and I had a great Thanksgiving dinner together. Then, we were joined later by another cousin, his spouse and their four kids. So, there was quite a houseful.

The next day I drove to visit the cousins on the other side of my family. We had dinner and played games. There was houseful there, too, with three cousins, spouses and then their collective seven kids.

The second day I was there I was going out to eat with my Godson. Being the great Godfather that I am, I said that I would pay the bill. So I gave the server my debit card and she went to run it through the machine and came back and said it was declined. She said they had been having difficulty with my particular bank all day, and since I knew that I had more than enough money in my account, I figured that's what it was. But that didn't solve the problem that we had a bill and now I had no way to pay for it. So, being the great Godfather that I am, I had to ask my Godson to pay for it. Luckily he has a job and money and a card that the restaurant's machine would accept. We went to a store afterward, where he found a CD that he wanted, so I said I would buy it for him. But when I went to pay for it, the same thing happened. However, the cashier said that they had been having problems with their computer system all day and it had been declining cards. So I paid cash, which I luckily had enough of for the CD.

But, thinking it was an odd coincidence that my card was refused twice, I decided I needed to call the bank to see what was going on. Turns out that when I had paid for the hotel room on my trip out, it raised a red flag at the bank, and so they turned off my credit card with no warning to me. Thankfully, it was easily corrected.

Also, while I was there, my 5 year old cousin came down with a cold. My two year old cousin got a double ear infection and pink-eye. When I went to visit the other side of my family, I was greeted at the door by my fifteen year old cousin who warned me not to get too close, as she had pink-eye. Thankfully, I did not get pink-eye or an ear infection, but the five year old was successful in sharing his cold with me.

So now I am back home in Minnesota. Today is my first day back in the office after a great week away with family. I am doped up on cold medicine, and am double fisting it with coffee and orange juice and trying to figure out where to begin on my list of things to do. So, of course I am writing on my far too neglected blog.

But in this holiday season, as we bask in the glow of Thanksgiving and look toward the coming light of Christmas, I am reminded of all of the blessings in my life. I have been blessed with an amazing family, who although I might not get to see as often as I like, the times I get to see them are wonderful and fun. I am thankful that, even though I might have a cold, I have been blessed with good health and the access to medicine should I need it. I am insanely blessed.

I hope all of you become more aware of the blessings you have already received, and that blessing upon blessing would continue to shower upon you.

troubled times

The internet has been abuzz with news of the restructuring of the ELCA and the subsequent loss of jobs for the 60-65 ELCA and global mission personnel.

I don't know enough about it to comment much. I can't say "They should have done..." or "Why didn't they think about..." or "They had no good reason to..."

All I know is that some changes had to be made, and they resulted in some pretty wonderful people losing their jobs, and some programs that are important to me losing (more) funding. Neither of which are desirable, and neither of which probably would have happened in a better economy.

What I can say is that in the midst of uncertainty, in the midst of pain and anguish, in the midst of questions and anger and frustration, there is God.

And I can say, with certainty, that with God and with each other, we will continue together on this journey, with all of its ups and downs and twists and turns.

And I can say, with certainty, that there is a Light at the end of this tunnel. It shines in the darkness. And the darkness has not, and will not, overcome it.

A lesson on the Body of Christ

It's funny how one little thing can cause us to think about how we do just about everything else in our lives.

Wednesday of this past week started out just like most every Wednesday. I hit my snooze button several times. I begrudgingly got out of bed. I walked around my house in a sleepy fog. I took a shower, got dressed and went over to the office.

In the office, things went like usual, too. I checked my e-mail. I started to put together the power point presentation for Confirmation that evening.

But then I realized I needed to do something back at my house. And, since I live right across the street, it's not that big of a deal to run home. So, I did.

The thing I needed to do was in a room where I don't allow my cats to be unsupervised. They have a knack for causing mischief and I'd rather they not do it in this particular room. So I keep the door closed. But, to get the door to latch, it needs to be shut hard. If one does not shut it hard, the door does not latch and the cats can push the door open and run amok. Which they do nearly every time the door isn't shut tight.

So, to close this door, I usually shut it hard. Or, slam it, really. Which breaks most mothers' cardinal rule. But no mother lives at my house, so it's ok. I slam this door most every time I shut it.

Now, give me a second to explain. I don't slam the door by pulling on the door knob. Most of the time I just grab the edge of the door and give it a yank as I leave. It works most of the time.

Actually, it worked really well this time, only my finger was still in it.

*** At this point, we might use some descriptive language that could cause those of a weaker constitution to become a bit queasy. If this is you, you might want to go look at pictures of rainbows and kittens and unicorns for a while, instead. ***

It took me but a split second to realize my finger had been slammed in the door. I pulled my hand toward me, and I'm not sure if the yelling took place in my head or if I actually verbalized it. But then I looked at my finger and realized I didn't see my finger nail. I also realized I didn't see my finger tip. And then I thought it looked like I could see the bone. Turning my hand, I saw my fingernail and fingertip were still attached, they were just doing their best impression of a PEZ dispenser.

So, I closed my finger and then realized I needed to seek medical attention. I also realized I was in no shape to drive myself there. I needed to get back to the office and ask someone there for assistance. So, I determined that I was not going to pass out in my house, and I would not pass out in the street. If I was going to pass out, it would have to be in the office where someone would be present to aid me. This meant I needed to get over to the office quickly.

Clutching my injured hand, I quickly walked over to the office where the secretary and the custodian were talking. Bursting in the door, I said, "I need to go to the hospital!"

The custodian looked at me, the expression on his face not reflecting the urgency or concern that I, at that moment, deemed necessary. "To the hospital or to the doctor?" He asked.

"I don't know!" I said. "I slammed my finger in the door and will most likely need stitches!"

"Oh," he said. "The doctor, then. They can do that at the clinic."

"Ok," I said. Then, feeling a little woozy, I said, "I need to sit down."

So the secretary took me to the clinic, where I was x-rayed. It was determined that I did a pretty good job of demolishing my finger. The skin was torn and, to use the Doctor's medical terminology, was basically "turned to hamburger." I destroyed the nail bed, and chances are good that I will never grow a nail on that finger again. I also managed to possibly crack the tip of my finger, but the Dr determined there wasn't much that could be done about that. So he cleaned my wound, stitched my finger closed, put on a splint and wrapped it up. I was prescribed an antibiotic, to prevent infection, and a pain killer to use if necessary. I was then sent on my merry way.

*** If you haven't already, you can probably stop looking at fluffy, pretty things now and continue with the story. ***

Considering what I did, it hasn't been that bad. But it has made me mindful of things I take for granted - things you never really noticed your middle finger on your non-dominant hand played such a big part in. Like, tying your shoes. Zipping your pants. Bringing in your groceries. Typing on the keyboard. All sorts of other things. Things that were easy and I did without much thought now must be done differently or a lot more slowly and deliberately so to avoid or reduce the amount of pain that accompanies them.

Of course, being a church nerd, I can't help but think of the theological implications - we are the Body of Christ, and we are all important. Even those of us who we consider to be middle fingers on non-dominant hands are important and valuable. Sometimes it just takes a little pain or discomfort for us to realize it.