When was the last time you got a splinter? I can’t remember mine, but having spent the better part of the last precious hour I didn’t think I had in trying to remove one, I was blessed with seeing the life parallels it presented me.
I used to get splinters all the time when I was little and my dad called them a splinter in your “finner.” I remember mom and I would bend over the dumb thing, almost drooling with concentration.
We were both younger. I could see what I was doing without magnification. Mom celebrated these intimate moments, I think, almost as much as squeezing my blackheads. Funny what you remember.
Mom and I were both determined to remove the splinter. And we fought to wield our weapon of choice. She liked tweezers. I chose a sewing needle. Not a pin. Heavens, no. We used to burn the needle and tweezers to sterilize them back then. I wonder if they had peroxide in those days…?
So many thoughts poured through me and the parallels to our lives kept shoving through my consciousness as I pretty much bullied the thing out of my finger. Blood flooded the gouge. My glasses got fogged over with my hot breath urging the thing out but to no avail. Could I ignore it? Not a chance. It was a battle of wits. A fight to the finish. Good versus evil. My honor was at stake. I was a splinter remover of note, having removed dozens over my young, reckless childhood. Yay for reckless childhoods. Do we even allow those now?
A splinter is a metaphor for life’s challenges.
Some people take them head-on, and won’t give up until the obstacle is overcome or removed. Some people put up with the tiny, dark subcutaneous interlopers–letting them fester and get infected. Others don’t want to take on the excruciating pain (you know it’s still in there because it hurts like hell when you touch it) of digging underneath and pushing, pulling, or sucking it out. (I was never successful at that last one). We soften the skin by soaking it. Dry. Dig. Soak. Repeat. “OUCH!”
The lessons are these. Some days, life gives you splinters. And you have tools: Tweezers and needles. And Moms and Dads and light and antiseptic. Do you remove the splinters or put up with them? What’s your vibe? How’s your life?
- Perseverance
- Lots of light
- Magnification
- Focus
- Patience
- Correct tools
- Eating (I’d skipped breakfast)
- Managing (ignoring) the pain
- Relief
- Satisfaction (I got it, finally)
- Removal of an offending problem
- Hurry is a hazard
- Memories of Mom and Dad
- Carving time
- Softening first (a challenge for my personality)
I’d love to hear what you think, OR what you do with your splinters. 🙂