The Ugly Nail

I used to have gorgeous hands and nails. I had people tell me all the time I should be a hand model. I laughed and thought they were kidding, but I did realize I had good nails. I have long fingers and my nails were always in GREAT condition. They would grow out long and straight, and were nice and thick. When people asked, "What's your favorite part of your body?" I would answer, "My hands and nails."

Why am I speaking as if this were the past? Well, because it certainly isn't true any more. My hands stopped being so pretty the day after my last day of 8th grade. I went camping with my parents and another family we were good friends with and their son (who was like a brother to me and one year younger) and I decided to go for a bike ride. We rode up a large hill and found a beautiful church where someone was going to be married that evening. We headed back down the road and I had a blast with the wind whipping my long hair around and blasting my face. We laughed and had a great time the whole way down. Right before the last hill down into the campground I stopped to wait for my friend (ha ha, I was winning) to see if he wanted to race to the campsite. Of course he says yes.

On your mark, get set, GO! We were off at what we considered breakneck speed and right at the bottom I had missed the patch of gravel on the road. My front tire hit a rock and down my bike slid. I remember sliding and holding on to the handlebars, ending up with the front tire under a parked car. I don't know how I made it back to the RV. Maybe I walked, maybe my friend went to get my parents, I don't remember. I remember the pain and getting the embedded rocks out of my arm, hand and leg. I still have scars. I was told it was smart to hold the handlebars because they could have easily whipped around and hit me right in the head, causing more damage.

That's why my hands are no longer "model" material. I have this strange bump on my right index finger, right at the first joint. I miss my pretty hands. My nails were still good for a long time though.

So how about my nails? A few years ago, I think it was back in 2005, I was working in the kitchen one day and was opening a drawer. My finger missed the pull and my nail got it. Nothing major, but for some reason it hurt my finger something fierce. I look down and my right middle finger had pulled back some and the nail bed was bleeding.

I don't know why it happened. My husband and I were dealing with infertility and I was on medication for that, so maybe that did it. Maybe it was the stress or my poor diet at the time (I was also working full time and working on my Master's degree full time). Who knows. All I know is that it hurt. It happened once or twice more that week and then I forgot about it. I figured it would heal and my nail would start to grow normally again.

WRONG! My nail hasn't healed normally and is now a funky shape and the nail bed is really small. I tend to hide my nails now and I'm embarrassed by them. I still catch that one nail every now and then and pull it back more. I told my husband the other day (after another random pull) that I wouldn't be surprised if I one day pulled the whole nail off. I was only slightly kidding.

It did get me thinking though. Every time I start to forget about it and not be as careful with how I pull out drawers or whatever, I end up catching it, pulling it back even further. How often does that happen in our lives? We forget about the important things and then, BAM, all of a sudden, something happens to force you to notice it. We do well for a while, but then either get busy with other things or get lazy, or we just get comfortable and honestly just forget. It's not bothering us anymore, so it no longer needs special attention.

These things do need attention though. I'm sure if I were to pay more attention and keep my nail cut shorter, it wouldn't catch on things as often. Why is it that something has to force us to take action? We need to make sure the important things are taken care of before something happens, creating pain or discomfort, and requires attention.

This is true of our spiritual walk as well. I know that in my own life I do well for a while. I read my bible daily, pray throughout the day, speak to my kids about God and Jesus, then I get lazy or tired or busy or any of the other millions of excuses I use and these things slip. I'm getting through life and then, yup, there it is. Something happens, I'm angry all the time, my kids are fussy and whiny, my husband is gone and the house starts falling apart. Then I start to pray and read and teach again. I hope and pray that I will get to the point that I don't have those long lapses of contentment without my Father. I hate that it takes something to remind me to pray in order for me to rearrange my priorities once again. I do so much better when I include Him as the head of my life. I've noticed my family does as well.