Kung Fu Fighting

The day before I started the new job, my oldest and I spent several hours cleaning the gutters in the street around  my mother's house. By the time we were finished the trash can was very heavy. When my son took it to the curb he lost control and it fell over.

I went to pick it up. Just as I got it upright the wheels rolled away from me and it fell over again. On it's way down it sliced the outside of my left wrist. My fretting hand when I play guitar. It started bleeding at a rapid pace.

And I got really angry.

I cussed at the trash can. I called it a filthy name.

Then I kicked it.

This wasn't just any kick. I turned my hip to get some real power behind it. Just like I'd been trained to do in martial arts. When I connected with the trash can my foot and lower leg stopped dead. My upper leg and hip kept going. Something had to give. That something was my knee. I immediately forgot about my wrist.

I fell onto the front lawn - crying. My knee slid back into place. I felt it. I told my son to go call my brother. When he did, my other two found out something was wrong. They came out front to watch dad crying on the front lawn. The neighbor across the street had seen me fall. He and his high school age boy came to help me up.

I had to explain to them what I had done to myself.

What was I going to do? I had no health insurance and no money. I had a stick shift that I needed both legs to drive to my new job the next morning.

I repented out loud and asked God's forgiveness. Then I and my three children started praying for healing.

Within an hour, and with out any pain killers, I was able to walk. I never did get healed completely. But, the next day I drove to and started my job - a very humble and grateful man.

There's nothing like messing up in front his kids to force a man to deal with a problem.

Since that day in January of 2004 I've had many of the "big names" pray for me. I've had many more small names pray for me. I still have a bum knee.

Every time I'm just standing there and my knee pops backward and I get that pain shooting all the way to my back teeth, I'm reminded that I control my temper. If I lose my temper that is a choice I make. It is a choice that makes it more difficult for my kids to respect me. It makes it more difficult for my kids to be proud of who their dad is. It shows them that they can lose control, if they want to, as well. Is that really what I want to teach my kids?

Since that evening, I've had plenty of opportunities to get angry. And I've taken advantage of some of those opportunities. But, most of them I've turned down. It would appear that, "where sin abounds, grace abounds much more."

That's my view from here.