Carly and I recently hosted our church’s fall gathering at our house. It included a trunk or treat, a mini marshmallow war, chili cook off, campfires and hay rides. It was a fun evening of fellowship and laughter and food. It was my responsibility to get the barn ready for this annual event. This involves moving mowers and trailers out, picking up things that have been used during the past year that haven’t gotten put away, and hiding the things that can’t be moved and don’t look nice (Carly calls this my junk). Once everything is out, the floor must be swept of the dirt and grass that has made its way into the barn since the last annual sweeping.
Here is when I was reminded again of the limits that I have from the burns that I received 16 years ago. My hands have been grafted, and I have had several surgeries to try to improve the function of them. My hands work remarkably well for as limited range of motion that I have in them. I like to refer to them as being “non functionally independent”. I can usually find a way to do the things I want to do, just not the way other people would do them or as quickly as some one else would. The graphed skin is not as tough or resilient as normal skin, so I’ve tried to learned to be careful through the years. Since my hands are mis-shaped, wearing work gloves isn’t an option but I have found a few pair of bicycle gloves that I can squeeze my hands into that help some. I have to be careful around things that are hot, since my sensations aren’t normal. I can burn myself again, never realizing that I had touched a hot object. The repetitive motion of doing jobs with my hands I’ve found will cause those graphs to tear and create open wounds on my hands that then take time to heal.
On the morning of the fall gathering, I was down to the final sweep of the barn. A quick twenty minute job and the barn would be as clean as I could make it. I have found that bicycle gloves offer some protection to my hands, but they were up at the house that morning. I didn’t want to take the time to go get them, besides, it was a quick twenty minute job so I was sure I would be fine. As I was finishing up the last section with the push broom, I noticed that my right palm had opened up. I had exceeded my limits for sweeping. It’s not a painful wound, it’s similar to an open blister that you might have. But for my hands it’s an open wound that would require close monitoring and wound care.
The palm healed over the next couple of weeks, so no long term problems, but it did raise the question of how well we know our limits and how do we respond to them? Do we enjoy having limits placed on us? Being told what you can and cannot do? As a child we are told when to go to bed. As a teen we get told how fast to drive. As we get married or have children, we are told what not to wear. As a culture we are told what is acceptable and what is not. To be told by a doctor not to eat this or that, or not to do certain activities. We get told what to do by all sorts of people, such as parents, government, family, society, and doctors.
How do we respond to those limits? Do we follow the speed limit or do we drive 5 to 10 miles over, hoping the state trooper would allow us to go on by? Do we push the limits to see how far we can go before we get into trouble. Before mom or dad snaps at bedtime and you get grounded as a child? Do we ignore the doctor when he says we should loose that extra twenty pounds because the holidays are approaching? Should I go get my bike gloves before I sweep the barn or will I be okay this one time?
Do we push the limits with God also? Constantly trying to move that line we aren’t supposed to cross a little farther out there each time. That we aren’t hurting anybody so what’s the big deal? Do we have the illusion that there aren’t any consequences to our sins, or that we won’t get caught?
What limits are you pushing against today and what might you need to change?
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