I recently got to watch something up close that is remarkable. Healing.

If you saw me a few weeks ago and noticed my heavily bandaged left thumb, I joked, “Oh that? I was trying cut my thumb off.” It wasn’t intentional, but I did slice it pretty good.

It occurred while I was performing that most treacherous of tasks: washing dishes. I’ve washed a million knives in my life. But for some reason, I was wiping the blade of one this time and cut into my thumb, near the top, opposite the nail. It’s a new knife, so it was sharp and effective for gouging flesh.

Before the dishwater got too bloodied, I wrapped it in a dish cloth. I went to get my wife and personal doctor, Pam. After the obligatory, “Now what did you do!” we had to decide if this warranted a trip to town for stitches.

I made such a trip last November when I gashed a finger working on the combine. So, I was feeling sheepish about doing that so close to my last faux pas. A while ago, I wrote a column wondering why I do stupid things. It’s a habit I’ve not broken.

I put my thumb under running water until the initial blood gushing ceased. Dr. Pam went to get first aid supplies. She used Steri-Strips to hold the gash in my thumb in place. Steri-Strips are one of those things wives know about. Over that went a large bandage, which was then wrapped in medical tape.

It was a work of art when it was done. Pam repeated that every day for the next few weeks. Each time, we’d leave it open a while. It occurred to me that I was watching healing over time. We all get cuts and bruises. But they aren’t always in a place where one can easily observe nature’s process.

If you are squeamish, stop reading. At first, it simply looked gross. It morphed between reddish, purplish, and pinkish. The cut was gruesome. After a while, the old skin became ashen gray.

About three weeks in, I could see new flesh forming below the lacerated old flesh. For a couple of weeks, the tip of my thumb felt “dead.” Little by little old skin began flaking off. The new skin underneath was sensitive, and I kept band aids on.

Like so many things in nature, I don’t know how that works. I looked up the “stages of a healing cut.”

Hemostasis: The body stops bleeding by forming a clot and scab.

Inflammation: The area becomes red, swollen, and tender as white blood cells clean the wound and prevent infection.

Proliferation: The body rebuilds tissue, fills in the wound, and forms new blood vessels.

Remodeling: The scar forms and gains strength, slowly fading in color and flattening. 

That sounds so matter-of-fact. But it’s a type of miracle really.

Living things heal. It’s a gift we take for granted. We share that with other life on Earth. If I tear the bark off a tree, it will try to replace that. Our cat Lewie got beat up by something a while ago and looked like hell. Now he looks fine. You wouldn’t know how bloodied he was.

Of course, there are limits to healing. If too much bark is torn away, the tree will die. My dad lost his hand in a combine accident when I was twelve. “Healing” in his case involved a prothesis he learned to use effectively his next forty years.

You can’t write “health” without “heal.” This astonishing ability for our bodies to fix themselves is essential for our time on Earth. If you live long enough, that ability begins to wane. A sore muscle might hang around for a couple weeks instead of a couple days.

I just had a birthday. It was a big number. One notices these things.

Science explains why we don’t heal as quickly when we are seventy compared to twenty. Our skin is thinner, we have less stem cells, blood vessels are weaker. Apparently, this is a trend I will be dealing with.

“Healing” is one of those words with cascading uses. I found this:

“Healing is the holistic process of repairing and restoring balance across the mind, body, and spirit to achieve long-term wellness. It is an essential component of health that involves nurturing physical recovery, mental peace, and spiritual, emotional, or social connection.”

Suddenly, my thumb doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

Having our cuts and bruises get better is important. Healing in our relationships is perhaps more so. I can look back on a long marriage and see moments of healing. Also, in friendships. These are times of healing at least as miraculous as a thumb cut open and flesh grown back.

My thumb’s healing was mindless on my part. The healing that takes part in our relationships requires much more intentionality. Forgiveness is often part of that. Forgiveness takes effort. It calls on our higher angels.

There are times when larger healing is called for. A lot of us think our nation could use some healing right now. The divisions are deep. In almost every issue, there are two sides who seem to relish hating the other. We tell our children to be kind and respectful. Then they see the news and adults who aren’t at all.

Across the board, the many difficult challenges we face would be better managed by people working together, listening, and seeking solutions that benefit all of us. Right now, our nation’s discourse is as if my thumb kept bleeding.

Those of us who are believers take solace in this. The Book of Jeremiah tells us, “Heal me, Lord, and I will be healed; for you are the one I praise.” And in Psalms, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

It is fast time our nation binds our wounds and heals. If my thumb can do it, we can do it.