Hand Trauma Tonight // one of 1000s of stars

I. Background scenerio before journaling tonight:

While fiddling in my basement with nonfunctional electronic materials, I injured myself. I was trying to learn "how things work" and had been inspired after completing a semester crash course in "Basic Electricity." I had also been inspired by DiscoveryScience's show, "How things are Made." I had just opened up a nonfunctional remote controller just to look at its neat computer-chip circuit board thingy.

I was working on this no longer working hand-held back massager. It was really, reaLLY tough plastic encasing to open.

While using a screwdriver along the crease as a pry tool ((gAASP!)), something slips and the next thing I see is the screwdriver driving into something it shouldn't be- My Palm ( :(((( ). Its bloodly, I get faint and emotional, and I don't know how bad it is. My dad's in the next room fiddling on his computer and some glimpse of him having previously wondered what I was doing, saying it was not best idea- this came to mind. My impulse was to just get away from him at that moment!

I went upstairs, getting a bit more faint and frightened, and came to my senses...("wait, my dad can help me"). My father happens to be a medical doctor and here I am running away, but it is out of embarrassment.

He calmed me down, using his expertise to calm my fearful questions, and I go to wash out the gouge.

This, I realized, is a GREAT OPPORTUNITY to journal. A "trauma scene", yet not deeply traumatic, just my physical body. Still, I had that FlasH of the screwdriver into my hand come. I'm kneeling at the sink, washing out my wound. Not only did that picture disturb and still settle in me like a sting of fear, but I was also embarrassed for not exercising more caution. It reminisced of the time I peeled a quince (a really hard apple-like fruit) and slipped, but that was when I was a pre-adolescent.

What would Jesus have to say? This would be my first time journaling a "trauma" situation.

II. Dialogue (writing at the sink with my non-dominant right hand. I had fear, some esoteric feeling that someone would be "mad" at me seemed to arise from within.)

me: My hand, blood. screwdriver. (I'm) Embarrassed at the accident. (wanted to) See how it worked.

Jesus: I love you, Erin, I love you. (Jesus is at the sink with me. He expresses deep concern, disappointment? He wears a white, even silky tunic.)

Jesus: I love you, Erin, don't worry about that. (He's aiding my hand, checking it, soothing, and caring for it.)

(He's with me. It still hurts. He's wrapping it up in a bandage. So I follow him and do likewise. I look for appropriate bandages in my house. I find gauze pads, antibacterial ointment, and bandages.)

me: (when resting on my stairs, I see Jesus beside me, with his arm around me- childlike, innocent, as a friend)

Jesus: That's what I'm here to do (smiling). That image that frightened you, I'm here to take away the "sting" of that too. Behold, it is already gone. And I remove the sting of death. (impression: I have overcome the world, you know/remember). Let's go, let's keep walking.

me: (the sting of fear from that picture is removed, and though I don't want to visit the picture, it doesn't disturb me or settle badly within).

me: wait, Lord, I want to ask for a healing blessing on my hand! Or even full healing- I don't want to limit you!

Jesus: (my hand resting on his knee, he takes care of it. (impression: a quick healing))

me: Thank you, Lord.