When I was fourteen years old, I was practically a little Miss Suzy Homemaker. I made many of my own clothes, I knew how to crochet and had dabbled in knitting. I also liked to bake and was happy to be doing all these fantastically "womanly" things (blechhh!). I decided for Christmas that year I would make everyone's presents. I was a proficient seamstress and I loved the whole creative process, picking out fabric, designing, and producing what I considered a piece of usable or wearable art.

I had a little sister that was four years old at the time and I decided to make her some homemade stuffed animals. Actually, they were to be The Three Bears: Pappa, Momma, and Baby Bear that nestled together in their own little bed, which I also made. I just knew she would love it. I specifically selected the fabrics for her and had everything I needed in order to complete the job. One night, the family was gathered together and I was sewing two button eyes and a button nose on one of the bears before I stuffed it. My little sister sat next to me trying to see what I was doing, but I very carefully kept it hidden from her view.

At some point and for some reason, she grabbed a very expensive and precise pair of fabric Fiskar scissors, we always called them the "orange-handled scissors," perhaps you have seen a pair. She proceeded to open and close them very quickly and I immediately recognized how dangerous it was for her to have them. I told her "No, give them to me..." but she continued to play with them. She stopped with them open and I reached to grab them but as my fingers closed around one of the blades, she closed the scissors - tightly. At first, I think the air was sucked clean out of me. I looked down and saw the end of my right middle finger dangling off just below my fingernail, right at the knuckle. These scissors were so sharp that a four-year old girl was able to practically cut my finger off. Interestingly enough, my first thought was, "I guess I won't be playing water polo this week."

And then the shock set in, and subsequently, I started screaming as my father held it under the water, what was he thinking? He had to slap me to get me to quit screaming... The emergency doctor was able to sew it back on but complications and a surgery ensued a month or so later; the main point is that my finger was saved and it works. It's not at all nice to look at but it is there. I had not shown the best judgment by leaving something so dangerous lying around that a small child could get a hold of it and cause injury or damage; possibly even to her own self.

We are given moments of clarity in our lives. This was one for me, though I could have turned it around and blamed my sister, I never did. Oh, I have lovingly teased her over the years, but I knew right away who was the responsible party, who held the blame if any were to be placed. I also recognized the second chance I had been given and that I needed to be more cautious and accountable. Opportunities to grow, to accept liability, and then make changes abound. It just takes recognizing them and, then, doing that oh so difficult part: implementing change.

by rayannethorn