April 7 – “Toe bobo hurt”

Sometimes it hurts to remember.  A week or so ago Cailyn stubbed her big toe.  I don't know how she did it.  It happened at home, and she couldn't say what she had been doing.  She could say that the "Toe bobo hurt."  And she did say it.  Over and over again.  Whenever she took her shoes off.  "Toe bobo hurt."  Whenever she put her shoes on.  "Toe bobo hurt."  Whenever she completed one of her patented jumps.  "Toe bobo hurt."  She said it when she sat at the dinner table.  "Toe bobo hurt."  She said it when we changed her diaper.  "Toe bobo hurt."  She said it when we took a walk outside.  "Toe bobo hurt."  Sometimes it was said quite matter-of-factly, a statement to inform us.  "Toe bobo hurt."  Sometimes it was presented as somewhat of a query, wondering if we understood the turmoil she was undergoing.  "Toe bobo hurt?"  Sometimes it was accompanied by melodramatic wails and scrunched up face and a few alligator tears.  "Toe bobo hurt!"  Sometimes she seemed to be in genuine pain.  Those were the worst.  Silent tears would streak down her face, accompanied by, "Toe (sniff) … bobo (sniff) … hurt."  After that initial wave of pain passed, she would bravely assert, "I all better," and do her best to move on.   She absolutely refused the other oft-used remedy of childhood, a Bandaid.  Sometimes the magic of a kiss would calm the throbbing, although I personally was kind of glad that it didn't work every time.  Have you ever kissed a foot wound?  Not exactly appealing.  Besides, that magic is generally restricted for use by Mommies and Nannies.  I thought about suggesting the time tested guy method for handling such things.  You know, "Suck it up.  Rub dirt on it."  But I wasn't sure Chris would approve.  Can you do that with little girls?   That was a week or so ago.  Last night Cailyn went to church with us.  On the way home she was in her car seat and I was reaching back and playing that classic game of "This Little Piggy" with her.  She laughed and demanded that I do it again over and over.  Until one time.  She was pulling her feet away from the Piggy-getter and it suddenly occurred to her that she hadn't paid homage to her bobo in awhile.  She grabbed her toe and put it up next to her face.  (I used to be able to do that.  Been a while).  Carefully inspecting the site of her former pain, she finally declared with trembling voice, "Toe bobo hurt."  The memory didn't last long.  The fact that I managed to tickle her other foot helped some with the distraction.  But for that brief moment, "Toe bobo hurt."   Sometimes it hurts to remember when what we remember was especially painful.  That's OK.  Remembering what hurts is part of what keeps us from repeating past mistakes.  Remembering what hurts allows us to more fully appreciate the times of joy and peace we now enjoy.  Remembering what hurts is also what keeps alive our passion for relationships.  Who was there for us when we were hurting?  Who cared enough to kiss the "toe bobos" of our life, or at least to rub some dirt in it?   Jeremiah 29:11-13 says, "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.   Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.'"   Father, thank you for the toe bobos you send our way.  Help us remember them properly, as times of learning, times of relating.  Amen.