December 11 – “The Cut”

I've mentioned before that every year at Christmas I carve something for Chris.  I even did one last year in the aftermath of Ike.  That's what it was about, in fact.  It was just a flat piece of wood, and I carved out the words, "Ike 2008."  At the time it was all I could think of, so we made it into a Christmas tree ornament.  This year is no exception.  I have been carving in my spare time.  Can't say yet what it is.  Someone may tell Chris and spoil the surprise.  I will say it is a bit complicated.  Not the simple, average, garden-variety Noah's Ark character.    I have another yearly tradition that, coincidentally, started just about the time I started carving years ago.  And every year I do my best to avoid it.  This year I was more determined than ever.  I had a dremel, after all.  Oh, I guess I failed to mention what the tradition was.  Every year since I started carving, for some random, strange reason, I cut one of my fingers during the month of December.  No matter how careful I am.  No matter how sharp or dull the knife.  One of my fingers manages to sustain a cut.  It's even  become a family joke of sorts.  Joke on me.    Well, not this year.  My trusty dremel would make it impossible.  And sure enough, I got almost all of the figure completed this afternoon.  I started sanding, which is the hardest part, I think.  And this year's wood chunk decided that it wasn't interested in being sanded.  I picked up some of that really coarse sandpaper and attacked it with that.  It helped some, but there were a few places that were plain old stubborn.  I finally broke down and, with great fear and trembling, pulled out my carving knife.  It was plenty sharp.  I bought it last year after the storm.  I started chipping away tiny little pieces of wood, and those problem areas gradually began to fall away.  I was on a roll.  I flipped the wood over and started on a different area.  It was fine, but I knew I could make it a little better.  And the very first cut went straight through the wood and into my finger.  Not an easy feat, either.  It was a finger on the hand in which I held the knife.  The good news was that it also happened to be the finger that has gone dead just above the knuckle since all this arthritis stuff started up.  So it didn't hurt.  It did bleed, though.  That made me mad.  I wiped it on my almost clean blue jeans and stubbornly continued on.  My new goal became to complete the area I started without getting any blood on it.  Success.  Small, but welcome.   Isaiah 40:5 says, "And the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all mankind together will see it."   Father, thanks for small successes.  Sometimes they're a lot more satisfying that the big stuff.  Amen.