On the Neglect of One's Ribs

When someone asks, "How did you sleep?" an agreeable answer is, "I never moved." Agreeable, that is, unless you have broken your ribs and spent the night trying not to move. That is how I have spent the last several nights.

(Yes, I bruised or broke a rib the same fateful night I pitched off my snowboard and broke my wrist.)

I could sit around bemoaning my fate to myself, or, as an aspiring writer should, do it publicly.

The fact of the matter is, I am doing penance for the neglect I have shown my ribs for the past 38 years. In breaking or bruising, they have not meant to harm me, only to humble me in a Christian way. They remind me each night (and often during the day) that they have served me without complaint or compliment for nearly four decades.

Can I say that about my feet, which always cry out for new coverings and stink to high heaven if I neglect them? Or my knees, which put in 30 years of service and now have decided to buckle at the most inconvenient of times. Or my teeth? (I will not even remark on the care and expense poured out on these nasty little creatures that promised early on to serve me but quickly turned to torturing me for little bits of silver and gold.)

And where were my ribs during all this? Right there, under my very nose, quietly carrying on their vital ministry, ministering to my vitals. But I never acknowledged them or gave due thanks, so one of them broke. Now I cannot ignore them.

I don't consider my rib's breaking to be peevish misbehavior or outright rebellion but a warranted, Christian complaint like the psalmist who cried out, "How long? Will you forget me forever?"

It is the purpose of this essay to keep their plaintive cry from becoming an imprecatory one. (I have read the Psalter.)

So here is my public acknowledgment of the service my ribs have rendered me these many years. They have been faithful and sound. They have never failed to rally around me. They have discharged their duty with humility, diligence and circumspection. Had all my body's parts the character of ribs, I would be the happiest man on earth. Indeed, if I could exchange all my teeth for ribs, I would do so, save that I would look very menacing to small children.

I accept my lot wholeheartedly and turn it even into a parable. May the temporary pain my noble ribs have caused me flower into the fruit of full appreciation for those who tend to my well-being faithfully and quietly, especially for that one whose origin can be traced back ... to a rib.