"What a piece of work is a man! How noble in reason, how infinite in faculties, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god! The beauty of the world, the paragon of animals!" --Hamlet, Act II Scene 2
Yesterday I opened a can of sweetened condensed milk in preparation to make some tasty treats to send in Christmas packages to family and friends. As we all know, sweetened condensed milk is very tasty. As we also know, Hamlette has an uncanny knack for injuring herself in stupid, bizarre, or heedless ways. No, I didn't cut my tongue while licking off the can lid. I sliced open both corners of my mouth. Yup, stuck the can lid partway in my mouth, started to lick, and zzzzip!
Yes, there was blood. Not a lot, although I did put Neosporin on the two tiny wounds to make sure they wouldn't get infected. And I felt like a good candidate to play the Joker in the next Batman movie (but Heath Ledger's mouth is plenty wide -- he'll do fine, I'm sure).
But tonight, I can barely tell I was injured at all. My lips don't really hurt, unless I scrape against the injuries with a Dorito or something. Isn't that amazing? In a matter of minutes, the tissues that I had thoughtlessly sliced apart began to stick to each other, then actually to heal together and reform what had been destroyed. I didn't have to think about this, I couldn't consciously make it happen or not happen. My body simply repaired itself.
Truly, as the Psalmist said, "I am fearfully and wonderfully made" (Ps. 139:14).