Of Toenails and Faith

We've apparently got this tradition where someone has to smash a toe nail into oblivion before the end of summer. Last year my dear and loving husband began this highly competitive event as he was trying to drive a fence post into the ground. The top of the fence post driver blew out as he slammed the weight of it down with all his force. It didn't stop when it should have and rammed his shod toes about 2" into the ground. Before I was fully aware of what happened he was several hundred yards up in the field hopping around and cussing like a sailor. We were both shocked to find that his toes were still attached to the end of his foot and I made him to x-ray himself to see where it was broken. He lived a miracle - it wasn't broken at all. He did, however, lose his big toe nail and limped for a few weeks.

Not to be outdone, Luke tried to one-up his dad this week. The boy was riding his bike without shoes. Yep, against every parental admonishment about such stupidity he did just that. The nail of his big toe was sticking straight up in the air when he came screaming into the house.

Now I'm normally not the most sympathetic mom there is. In fact, I've been known to threaten "if you break a leg don't come crying to me!" and mean it. But I could clearly see that this was time to put away the "I told you so" and slap some mother-loving on that thing. And my first instinct was to slap a band-aid on it so that neither of us had to look at that nail waving at us any longer.

But then I got to thinking that the poor boy will be going to camp next week and what on earth will he do with that thing waving around just asking to be ripped off? I don't care what kind of a non-sympathetic mother I am, I couldn't stand the mere thought of that. Plus, when I went to change the band-aid last night it was stuck to the nail and I said we'd just go to the doctor and let them deal with it.

Trying to minimize the trauma for the boy (because he was totally skeeved out by the thought of his nail being cut off) I told him that Thursdays are good days to have your foot removed. He was onto me, but it made him laugh. Mission accomplished.

At the doctor he put on his brave face but was nearly in tears regardless. We prayed together that it wouldn't hurt much, but deep in my heart I knew that only a miracle would keep that from happening. Not that God isn't capable, or doesn't care about loose toe nails on little boys, but the faith of an adult sees things through a realistic set of glasses.

Being braver still, Luke started telling me that he knows Someone braver than anyone else. That Someone died just so that Luke and I could go to heaven. I was nearly in tears for this tender hearted son who needed his nail cut off.

The doctor peeled away the bandaids and much to both our delight the nail was laying down and looking all normal, except bluish and yellowish and bloody. Upon close inspection (that didn't involve any touching) it was determined that it was bent back clear to the nail bed. Because it was attached at the back and one side she didn't want to cut it off. We were advised to keep it wrapped for a while, it would hurt like the dickens for about 2 weeks, and in about 6 months the new nail would completely grow out and that useless flap would be gone. She congratulated me on the quick thinking to slap a band-aid on it and did the same. And we were sent on our way home.

The faith of children doesn't see things so realistically. Luke knew that the same God who died for him was the God that could keep a toe from hurting at the doctor. The faith of a child truly humbles me.