Several weeks ago I cut off the tip of my left thumb while trying to push open a stuck lock of a bathroom stall!  I stopped the bleeding within about 15 minutes with wet paper towels and opted for a band-aid rather than going to see a doctor, in hopes it would heal itself, and it did, much quicker than I thought possible!   Within a couple of days the wounded thumb was no longer demanding any of my attention, and I was using it normally within a week.  Although I can still feel that the tip is gone, it is not noticeable to the eye, and I no longer give it any thought.  It has healed.

Yet, last week when I exerted energy opening something with the use of that thumb, it hurt, and I remembered the wound.  Then a few days ago when I was helping a friend return a trampoline to a high shelf in the store, again normal pressure brought a moment of pain, and I remembered the wound.

Do old wounds ever completely heal?  What about the harsh word spoken to us years ago by a co-worker?  Or the pain of losing a relationship that we hoped would last forever?  Or the grief of losing a loved one to death?   Do we ever fully heal from rejection, by a friend, by a job, by a group?  Does a season of loneliness ever really get buried without a trace? 

Or, even after we have moved on, do similar circumstances bring back the old pangs, attributing to the new circumstances, perhaps, far greater relevance than they would merit on their own?

Everyday we walk amongst people who have been wounded.  One careless word may bring someone a flood of pain.  Looking past someone as if he does not exist can call up a sea of isolation within him.  Leaving someone out of a conversation can tear open a fragile wound.

Just for today, may I be a healer.  May I freely give a pat on the back, a hug, a kind word, a compliment, a loving smile, a simple healing touch, to every person I meet, knowing they are all wounded somehow, like me.