In this house, I’m the Mama…

Last week the youngest daughter had an “accident” at school. I got the phone call from my husband, who was in the middle of a mid-term exam. He could leave to go pick her up and take a zero, but he was really hoping that I could leave work and pick her up instead.  He explained that the poor little munchkin had done something that had all but ripped off her big toenail, the school said it was bleeding profusely and they couldn’t stop it, they were unable to reach Bio-Mom, and we needed to go get her… NOW! It was the “Big Toe Emergency.”

I jumped in the car and headed that way. I haven’t personally had a toenail ripped off, or even damaged to the point that it came off later, but toe pain has got to be the worst thing on the planet next to tooth pain. I prayed that she would be calm enough to let us do something about it, that it wasn’t unbearable for her right now, that God would have someone invent a teleporter soon so that I could get to things like this in 30 seconds instead of 30 minutes.

I arrived at the school and found the poor little woman in the nurse’s office, laying on a cot with her foot elevated and a giant white bandage covering the damage. As soon as I walked in the door, the tears began to run down her face. I remember those times as a child. I could keep my game face on until my Mom walked in the room, then it was all over. I remember the relief I felt when my “safe” person showed up and I could just let it all go. We talked briefly about the toe accident as I snuggled her close and dried her tears. I felt so sorry for her, I really did.

My sadness over her pain was just the tip of the iceberg, though. As soon as the nurse removed the bandage that had been covering her toe, the heartache for her changed into a physical jolt of electricity through my body. There sat her toenail, floating on top of her toe in a sea of blood. I didn’t want to touch it, much less try to clean it up and bandage it for her. It wasn’t that I couldn’t stomach the blood, it was that I couldn’t stomach the thought of causing the little one any additional pain. I couldn’t stomach the thought of how painful it must be for her right now. Sometimes the thought isn’t nearly as bad as the stark reality. I wished that I could do that nose-wiggling trick and magically make it all better.

Alas, God has not gifted me with magical nose-wiggling, so I took her to see the doctor instead. I wanted them to check it out and make sure that she didn’t need stitches or antibiotics. To the doctor’s office we went and she was shaking like a leaf when the doctor tried to pull back the bandage and look for himself. She repeated several times, “Will it hurt? Are you going to pour that stuff on it that stings?”

The doctor reassured her that he would do his best not to hurt her, but I knew that a little pain was inevitable given the nature of her injury. It did hurt a little, but probably not as much as she thought it would. We’ve seen steady improvement since it happened. We found some boots with a big toe box that she could wear so the toe would be protected and have room to wiggle without being squashed. It has stopped bleeding altogether, and she can walk normally now without pain. The doctor said it would be about six to eight weeks before the toenail grows back in, so she’ll have to be more careful in the meantime. It was a good reminder about why wearing tennis shoes is preferable to wearing flip-flops at school (thanks so much for that brilliant decision, Bio-Mom–but that’s a story for another day), just sad that she had to experience it to really understand why we have that rule in our house.

The whole experience made me think about how many times I’ve been careless (or just plain naive) with my life and God has felt that sadness for me. I wonder how often He’s felt physical pain, like a jolt of electricity, knowing how much pain I’ve caused myself because I didn’t heed the lessons He’s taught me. I think about Jesus taking all of my sin upon Himself and I can’t imagine the agony he endured.

I think that’s why God makes parents out of us–it’s really these moments that illustrate for me what an awesome, loving, attached, involved, forgiving, unconditional, parental God He is. I’m thankful that He’s there for me in those “Big Toe Emergency” times in my own life, that He doesn’t leave me just because my decisions are unwise and He doesn’t say “I told you so.” I’m grateful that even though I may have made the mess all by myself, even though I didn’t listen when He whispered words of wisdom in my ear, I have that safe place to go, to let down my guard, to let go of the game face, and have a good cry if I need to.