Over the past six years, I’ve had major back surgery, a knee replacement, and a hip replacement. The replaced hip became infected, so it had to be taken out and replaced again…followed by three months of hospitalization while it healed. I spent four of those six years on crutches waiting for surgeries. All those things hurt.

My thumb hurts. I don’t need a doctor’s appointment. I don’t need a surgery. It’s a small cut on the outside of my right thumb going down into the nail. But it hurts. It hurts to open Alan’s pill bottles—and between the blood cancer and the Parkinson’s disease he takes a lot of pills five times a day. It hurts to fasten my jeans, to wash my hair, to type (hitting the space bar), to cook, and to clean. And when I accidentally hit it on something—ouch!

How often, I wonder, do we unknowingly judge others because we feel they have never suffered the same things or suffered as much as we have? How often do we think or say, “that person is so filled with self-pity—and they haven’t even experienced all the bad things I have.” Yes, that might be true. But give them a break. Their thumb hurts.

All on the same day, my husband in Texas got sent home in an ambulance to die; our lovely sheepdog died; my mother died and I couldn’t plan on going to her memorial service because I had to stay home and take care of my dying husband, and my truck caught on fire in downtown San Antonio. It hurt. But I try not to judge anyone else who hasn’t been through all those same things—especially all in one day—because now…my thumb hurts. It’s not as major or intense as the other painful things that I’ve experienced—but the pain is just as real.

If you meet someone who lacks Christmas cheer this holiday season; someone who is a bit dour and apathetical—forgive them. Overlook the fault. Their thumb might hurt.

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