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Tenderness

I saw tenderness displayed this evening, and it touched my heart beyond measure. 

It all started when I decided to take advantage of the rare, February 1st, 75-degree weather we were having. When I got home from work, I changed into running clothes and headed out. 

My goal was to hit four miles on my Charity Miles app and my Garmin watch, so I ran past my house as my circuit ended with the intention of running to the end of my street and back one more time. 

It was dark by that time, but my neighborhood is small. I know the path well, lined with sidewalks and a few street lamps. 

Just as I approached the house on the corner, something unexpected happened. 

Well, not unexpected as I tend to do things like this. 

I tripped on the uneven pavement. 

I went down on my knees, falling forward onto my left hand. My right thumb somehow turned under as I landed. 

First, there was shock. Next, I did a quick body check. My knees were already sore, but my workout pants had saved the skin from getting torn up. 

My left hand had scrapes. I couldn’t see well enough to gauge how bad they were.

Then, I looked at my right thumb. As soon as I moved it, blood started pouring from it. 

It was bad. I didn’t know a finger could bleed so much. 

I might have said a wordy dird…loudly enough for my sweet, Baptist neighbor, in her garage, to turn and look at me. 

Oops. 

The blood continued to flow, and large drops were running between my fingers and falling on the ground.

I decided that miles be da@%#d…I was going home. 

And I did, hobbling…determined not to cry. 

Because there was so much blood, I grabbed something from my recycle box in the garage and put it under my hand to prevent a bigger mess when I went inside. 

That’s when I lost my cool and started crying.

Rooster was in the kitchen. He saw my hand and immediately took control of the situation. 

After calling for the Mr. to get his first aid kit, Rooster handed me paper towels and instructed me to put pressure on my thumb firmly to make it clot. 

He wouldn’t let me let go, even when I wanted to take a picture for my blog. 

Yes, I was crying but still thinking of the blog. 

Priorities. 

Meanwhile, the Mr. started trying to clean up the mess. Blood was everywhere…in the sink…on the counter…running down my leg from where it had dripped. 

Rooster cut gauze to fit my finger and, when things were ready, carefully wrapped and taped it. 

The training he’d undergone when he was a lifeguard had kicked into full throttle. 

  
I sat down to catch my breath and decide what to do next. I was sweaty from my run, but my body was sore from the fall. I needed a shower, so the Mr. taped, at the suggestion of my friend, Megan, a baggy around my finger. 

  

My finger still got wet, but at least the shower water didn’t hit it directly. 

I got a glass of wine and watched the Iowa primary results, trying to air out my thumb. I wound up applying a bandage. The wound, which we now think is a puncture from, perhaps, landing on a small rock, was still oozing. Yeah. Gross. I wound up putting a band aide on to keep it covered.  

  

I needed to change the bandage before heading to bed, and without asking, Rooster stepped into the kitchen and took over, adding  a dab of the prescription antibiotic ointment he’d used after he had a cyst removed after Thanksgiving. 

He was gentle and apologetic when I experienced a bit of pain. 

Such a sweet boy. 

I can’t help but be moved by the tenderness shown to me tonight. 

As a mom and teacher, I’m used to taking care of others. 

To have my 21-year old son take the lead and love on me when I needed it most fills my eyes with tears and my heart with gratitude. 

I am so blessed. God has created a fine young man in this son of mine. 

By the way, I did get my miles…not bad for the evening of discomfort that followed. 

   
 

I am Huffletuff…ever the overachiever….with an incredible son to prove it. ❤️

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2 Responses

  1. ahhh – you have raised a good son. What a blessing to see.
    & OUCH!!!!! I’m glad you didn’t hurt yourself worse!!!

  2. You raised a good one. I hope and pray that I am as successful with my little man.

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