Along Came Daddyhood

These are the facts: I have a large, gaping wound on the side of my left leg. It has been like this for 2 weeks. I’m whining slightly more than the average contestant on the Biggest Loser. I did this playing church softball. I am 26.

Having no other recourse after my amateur medical methods yielded little improvement, I sought out the good doctor, Doc Thompson to shed some light on the unrelenting grotesqueness that sits just below my knee. At the conclusion of our visit, Dr. Thompson declared my wound to be, not an abrasion, but a severe 2nd degree burn. Good times.

This struck me as odd so I compiled 2 theories on how the leprosy of my leg came to be.

Theory #1: I was running at such a great speed, that my slide simulated that of a motorcycle wreck, resulting in a wound similar to that of an injury earned during a motorcycle’s skipping across a hard surface (A 0.01 % chance of being the likely answer).

Theory #2: The cumulative mass of my ample backside forcibly striking the ground, created a big-bang style explosion of energy and heat. The burn on my leg was ground zero of the massive release of energy, thus providing the source of my heinous, festering sore (A 78 % chance of being the likely answer).

I’m fairly certain that the truth is somewhere in the middle of those theories.

Following a nightly occurrence of my yelping in pain as a result of peeling the bed sheets from the gooey adhesiveness of my wound, I thought of this situation as a plush garden from whence I could extract many teaching points for young HR: The benefit of pants when playing baseball/softball, being content with doubles, and addressing problems head were just a few of the gems I came up with.

Since the origin of my wound, I have been diligently treating the problem. Triple antibiotics, Neosporin Pain+, and surgical dressings have all been purchased in an effort to quell the throbbing pain emanating from just above my shin.

My attention has rarely wavered from it and it’s healing has never been far from my focus. But it was only recently that I understood just how starkly my handling of this injury stood in contrast to my approach in other areas of my life.

If given truth serum, could I honestly say that I’ve approached all my problems in this manner? How would my marriage be if I attacked each of my faults as I have my melted tissue? What about my spiritual walk? Have I ever paid as much attention and been as consumed with my spiritual flaws as I have been with my leg?

Most of the last two weeks have been spent franticly trying to figure out some kind of resolution to my problem, but yet when God is dealing with me about something, I often find it appropriate to stick my head in the sand and hope for the best.

The physical immediacy of the pain made it the preeminent problem of the last two weeks for me, but discomfort alone isn't the measure of a problem's depth.

So if there is anything profound to be shared with HR from an injury incurred just before third base, it is to tackle the problems of his spiritual walk and personal relationships like they are throbbing flesh wounds.

Sometimes they go away quietly and just leave a faint scar as a silent reminder, but other times they escalate, and in doing so, are complicated infinitely more than they ever should have been.

Or sometimes they make you have to wear shorts for two straight weeks, ensuring that you look REALLY professional at work, as you’re forced to walk like Lieutenant Dan after Vietnam. Awesome.