This Last Day of February

I've been up late (relatively) and up early the past few days working away on lattes or homework. As the past weeks of this semester have gone, I get to Wednesday and am ready to sit and watch Oprah and Malcom in the Middle for the rest of the day. Adding to that, it's been cold and rainy throwing me into my full whine mood by saying, "I don't want to be cold anymore!" In the mundane things of work, sleep, seasons I've been throwing out some interesting conclusions. Take the cold thing, after complaining again to Jon, I suggested forming my own liberation theology focusing on oppression of the weather and my freedom from that. What do you think, Travis?

I've also been feeling pretty beat up lately. Every shift I work I end up slicing my hand or gouging it with some form of sharp metal. Espresso machines can be so cruel. I've also developed a sore and slightly swollen big toe on my right foot and have spent a bit of time the past few days nursing these wounds back to health. When I was little I would show off bruises and cuts to my Dad, which were often met with approval. I'm not sure if they were evidence of hard work, life or just my clumsy nature and pale skin, but injuries became in part, trophies to carry around. As I was focusing on anything but the lecture in class on Monday, I thought there may be a link between this sort of pride or approval of injuries and the opportunity to nurture that follows. Mind you, this came to me while in a class on Romans and while listening to a professor I have a hard time agreeing with or tolerating, so it may make no sense. But it seems that when we are injured or sick part of it is an opportunity to care and nurture ourselves. Or it could be just to simply care and nuture as the action as something we're meant to be doing as humans and these injuries of everyday life are actually beneficial.