My middle name is Grace, which is my mother's first name. It is a name; not a descriptive term. I tend to be a bit accident prone. I once broke my big toe and a bone in my foot when a pizza fell out of the freezer and landed on my foot. Mind you, it was a stuffed crust pizza. Even though it reallt hurt, I waited about 24 hours before seeking medical attention because I didn't want to tell anyone what I had done. When I finally hobbled into the walk-in clinic I was in too much pain to care anymore. By the time I came back from my x-rays, I'm sure that all the staff knew as they smiled as I handed over the films. Two weeks in a walking cast fixed my foot, butr my pride took quite a hit.
As I had predicted in my post on Friday, preparation for the Good Friday service were filled with last minute instructions, some casting changes, an emergency ironing session by a parent and prayer. Finally, after months of practice, there we were in make-up. The sanctuary was filling with people and the music started,
Our dance praise ministry team had the first song and got the people on their feet and praising God. The clown team entered for the second song and the energy level was high. My entrance came during the middle of the same song. Everthing was going well. The adrenalin was flowing.
The third scene depicts Jesus clearing the temple of the thieves and money changers. I came into the scene and flip over a card table. I've done this dozens of times. However, I've never gotten my thumb caught on the table. Immediately I knew something was wrong. Pain shot through my thumb, palm and two fingers. Not usually a good sign. As the scene progresses, my hand hurts so bad I can't use that hand. Not good at all.
I am pretty sure that it is broken or dislocated. But, the service must go on. It wasn't hard to muster up tears during Jesus' prayer in the Garden. Things got worse when my guards tie my wrists to the cross before the crucifixion. Lucky the music was loud enough to muffle my desperate whispers to loosen up the ropes or else!
After the service, everyone headed to the Dairy Queen and I headed to the ER. I had taken off my clown make-up, but it was still an interesting story that ellicited lots of questions from the nurses, docs, x-ray techs and the registration clerk. As I stated in last week's blog, noone believes a story that starts, "well, you see I was clowning and throwing this table." I'm pretty sure they ordered a psych consult.
I ended up with either a badly sprained thumb or a torn ligament or tendon. The plastic surgeon will give me the verdict this week. I have a plaster splint and a sling. So much for playing for the Sunrise service. I'm learning to type with one hand, as working is not optional. Vicodin has been a constant companion during the weekend.
Apparently noone knew what had happened at the service outside of the ministry teams. That's good because it wasn't about me - it was about God. I pray that God was reflected through the Good Friday service.
"Let your light so shine before men that they see your good works and praise your Father in heaven." Matthew 5:12
2 comments:
The kids were phenomenal for the Sunrise service. They really did a good job...who wrote the skit? All day long I've telling people I need to lose some Hanukuk pounds. Funny stuff...and yet got the story across.
I'll pass your compliment along to them. I am so proud of them. I wish I had their poise at that age. I wrote the skit, but the kids pulled it off so well with their own touches. They had a great time.
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