Thorn in the Flesh

I'm thankful for a thorn in the flesh.

I wish it was thornier really. I wish it would cause me more angst. I want to be more thankful for it.

I want to be more mindful of it's pain, more moved by it's prick, more shaped by it's stab. I wish the thorn gave me a limp or something! If it caused me to limp maybe I would do more about it. Maybe if I had to wear a lift in my shoe I'd care more. Because then I'd have to more carefully choose my shoes. Maybe I'd have to fork over extra money for American made shoes, or fair trade shoes, or sustainably made shoes. No Chinese sweat shop shoes when your feet hurt. Maybe if it was a constant dull pain I'd try to do something to relieve it. Pain so strong I wouldn't want it to come back so I'd prevent it. I want to be more thankful for the thorn in my flesh.

But as it is, I just have a stabbing pain occasionally, and so I take my reusable bag to the store. I have that ache and so I string up a clothes line but only use it one summer. I feel bad about conflict diamonds and want to sell mine even though it's certified but I forget. It's like a pulled muscle, it's uncomfortable but it also feels good to squeeze it--it hurts good. I massage that pain with these little remedies but it does nothing to cure the cancer. I do green, organic things and the pain feels good like in my tiny sacrifice I've done something good for the earth, good for myself, good for my family, good for all of the above. I use my RED card at Starbucks EVERY day. I should feel good about that. I'm helping with AIDS in Africa after all. But wait, I contribute to the landfill as I throw away my cups as my reusable one collects dust in my cupboard. Something is wrong there. I wish the pain was deeper, the tumor bigger, the treatment rigorous, if I don't take chemo and radiation I might lose this battle! I wish the prick was permanent, lasting, constant, that I never could forget. I want to be thankful for the thorn in my flesh.

But I'm so busy. I'm so tired. I'm doing good in other ways. I'm okay.

But I'm not. I have the cancer of consumerism growing in the cells of my body and squelching my soul. I have the infection of apathy bad. I'm not okay. I know it. What I do isn't fine. How I spend my money isn't right. What happens to animals, land and people because of me is sick and sinful. I want to be thankful for the thorn in my flesh.

I am thankful for the thorn in the flesh. But I want to do something about it. I want to be thankful for how that thorn spurred me on to change the world, to live lighter, to be a whole person in a whole world. I want to be always seeing others and be mindful that my gain could radically rob someone else somewhere of a good, rich and true life. I could be the thorn in someone's flesh, and more than that I could be the cancer that kills them body and spirit. I don't want that. I don't want to forget that. I don't want to live like that. I want to be thankful for the thorn in my flesh.