Worth the Risk

By Mack Grubbs

Withering in pain from smashing my finger, I heard the words from inside my head, “Buck up and take it like a man.” Gritting my teeth, taking deep breaths and moaning softly, I did take my pain like a man. As the initial moments passed, the sharpness of the pain began to subside. Putting my finger in my mouth actually seemed to help soothe the throbbing. I knew that ice would be a better solution but at the moment I just wanted immediate comfort.

Another time when I just wanted comfort was on a fairs wheel at the Gilmer Yamboree. I don’t actually remember the experience but I feel as though I remember because of the vivid recollection my mother has of the event. Gilmer, Texas is where I was born and spent the early years of my life. TheYamboree was a county fair that set up right in the town square and for a few days our lives were transformed by the rides, the lights, cotton candy, tent freaks and games of chance. As the years passed and we moved away from Gilmer, we always returned to enjoy the Yamboree with our extended family.

As a four year old, my Aunt Lela took me on the fairs wheel for what she thought would be a great thrill for me. From the moment the operator pushed the lever and the fairs wheel started to spin, I began to scream with a cry that brought my mother running. She begged the operator to stop and let her take me off the fairs wheel but he refused. I creamed until the ride stopped and Lela returned me to the arms of my mother. Nothing would console me until I was back where I felt safe.

Where physical pain can be medicated to the point its sharpness can be dulled, emotional pain is more difficult to soothe. I can pack my bruised finger in ice or even hold it in my mouth but where can I place my emotional hurt? I can’t put it in my mouth to be soothed or pack it in ice. Even if I temporarily push that pain deep down in a dark crevice of my mind, when I least expect, it will rise back to the surface and squeeze my heart with a pain that only time can dull.

There are blessings that come with pain. Physical pain helps you learn to be more careful where you put your finger. Experiencing emotional pain reveals that you were willing to place your feelings at risk. The person who has never experienced emotional pain has never shared enough of their innermost feelings to become truly connected to another human being. My earliest recollection of emotional pain came in the fourth grade. I was in love with my teacher, Miss Mormon, at Valley View Elementary. I was going to marry her when I grew up. She was the prettiest person I had ever seen and she showered me with attention. Mother tried to tell me that it was not possible for my dream to materialize but I refused to listen.

During those blissful days of the fourth grade, my heart was shattered like a crystal vase with the announcement that Miss Mormon was getting married and would be taking a two-week leave of absence for her honeymoon. I didn’t know what a honeymoon was but I was sure I wasn’t going to like the answer mother would give me when I got home. I refused to accept the fact that she would betray my dreams. I never called her by her new married name but continued to refer to her as Miss Mormon no mater how many times she corrected me. I never asked about her honeymoon either.

Although my relationship with Miss Mormon was totally a product of my imagination, the pain was still real. I would have gladly traded my emotional pain for a smashed finger that I could poke into a bag of ice to diminish the throbbing. But not even the loving arms of my mother could console me this time. No rescue came from the emotional fairs wheel I was riding with the loss of my dream of marrying Miss Mormon. I had opened my little naive heart and only time would heal the open wound. My injury would have to heal from the inside out.

Today, these many years later, I can still close my eyes and see Miss Mormon standing before our class dressed in her white blouse and yellow skirt as she introduced us to her future husband. I disliked him immediately. With time that dislike mellowed, as did my hurt over Miss Mormon’s betrayal of our future together. That experience taught me that emotional pain is survivable. It is not only survivable but also healable. It takes more time to heal than a mashed finger or a frightening ride on a fairs wheel. My memories of Miss Mormon are cherished. What I learned along that part of my journey of life became an inspiration and strength to me. I healed from that pain and learned that the rewards of risking the heart are worth the potential future pain that might follow.

Should you think my story is a product of fiction just check out the index finger on my left hand. You will find the evidence of the blood spot under my fingernail and the need I had at that time to “buck up and take it like a man.” I plan to be more careful where I place my finger in the future but I will continue to share my feelings and risk my heart. It’s worth the risk.