Pity party of one your table is ready

Radio silence from me lately on the blog has primarily been due to the wrist/hand injury I inflicted upon myself playing concrete slip-n-slide at a church paint party four weeks ago, then the lower back sprain that would follow when I was trying to still take care of my kids and hit it hard at the gym, despite said wrist injury.   A woman down and out for a couple weeks will really get her behind on blogging (and everything else).  I haven't even documented my child's first birthday stats (#secondkid) even though it's been three weeks.

I've been hanging in there but I confess that I've been really feeling sorry for myself in a 'this could not have happened at a worse possible time and it's everybody else's fault' kind of way.  This. Sucks. Not having a fully functional wrist on your dominant hand when you just started lifting weights and doing yoga again and are a photographer in busy season and have two small children that want to be picked up and held all the time... it sucks.  Have you ever tried to put on a sports bra with one non-dominant hand? Or load a one-year-old into a carseat?  Or slice a piece of fruit while holding a toddler?

I've replayed the event in my head so many times -- mostly with anger... at myself, at the people who planned it and approved it despite the obvious safety hazards, at my husband, at myself again -- in slow motion rethinking every move as though I could undo it and get the last month of my life back at full strength.   If only I would have remained a wallflower when the paint started flowing.  But nooooo... I had to get int there, I couldn't possibly leave a paint party without paint on my clothes.   Sometimes overlooking the amazing help I've gotten from family and friends, my mind will turn to the weight I could have continued to lose if I'd have been full strength at the gym.  The work I could have already gotten done if I'd have been full strength at the computer.  The portrait sessions I wouldn't have had to cancel because I couldn't hold my camera for the first two weeks. The cuss words I wouldn't have said under my breath if I didn't have to wear this damn brace on my wrist whenever I do anything that could possibly compromise the healing.  So many cuss words I've whispered.  I confess.  And I hate it when women cuss.

But there's this guy we know.

He's funny and smart and generally happy.  And he's in a wheel chair because of a drastic misfortune when he was a child.   We know him and his story as a good family friend, but if you're not in a position to hang out with him in person, he's also got a book, and was a significant part in a recent sermon at our church, which you can watch here if you are up for a kick in the pants about Humility:  http://www.sunvalleycc.com/sermon/humility

Often God puts things in our path to stop us in our thinking tracks.

So my little wrist sprain isn't so bad.  I feel like a horrible person and a horrible mother and a horrible friend for my attitude (sometimes unspoken) during this "trial".   This too shall pass, I must be reminded.  Thank you for your continued prayers for healing and for all of the help I've had with the girls this past month.

And I promise I'll post Josie's one-year stats before she's two ;)