Today we’re exited to be giving away five (5) of Nicole’s book, She’s Got Issues. To enter, simply leave a comment at our Daily Grind Counter all week long. Winners will be announced Monday, July 16, 2012. Giveaway is open to US and Canadian residents.
I went to the beach and brought back the world’s worst souvenir.
To be honest, I didn’t select it. It wasn’t among the thousands of postcards, shell jewelry boxes, airbrushed tee shirts, tiny plastic snow globes, or dolphin-shaped salt and pepper shakers. Nope.
This one hitched a ride from the water park into my immune system and didn’t wreak havoc until I returned home. What started with a sore throat turned into tiny bumps all over my hands and feet that itched to the high heavens.
I went to Myrtle Beach and brought back the Hand Foot Mouth Virus.
Many nights were sleepless as I looked for ways to stop the incessant itch on my hands and feet. When they didn’t itch, they ached. I searched the Internet until 2 and 3 in the morning looking for an answer, until I finally found a suggestion – ice. The only thing that helped the itching on my hands was ice packs, I read.
And so I took bits and pieces of sleep by snuggling with an ice pack in each hand and regularly dipping my red swollen feet into a foot spa filled with ice. If they were numb, they weren’t itchy.
I feel asleep many nights thanking God for the person who shared her icy advice online.
Finally one morning I awoke, realizing I could actually walk again on my poor feet. Then my mother, who had been keeping my three kids for me, called to tell me the baby was showing signs of the virus.
She brought the baby (Can you still call a two-year-old a baby?) home. Little Grace was pitiful. She had the bumps all around her mouth and soon had them on her hands and feet as well.
“Some’fin on my foot, Mama,” she told me, shaking her foot as if to jiggle away the itch.
Remembering what helped me, I fixed an ice bath for Grace to dip her tiny toes in. Sitting her in a tiny chair, I positioned the foot bath in front of her. She giggled a little as her feet touched the ice cubes but allowed her feet to sink in the frigid water.
She gasped – not from the cold, but from delight – and said, “That feels me better!”
I uttered a small prayer of thanksgiving and told my husband, “Well, one good thing about me having the virus is that I understand how she feels and know how to help her.”
Even as I formed the words, the Holy Spirit pricked my senses.
I could help Grace only because I had been there. God wanted us to understand Who He was, so He came to earth in the form of man. Only then could He communicate with us on a level we completely understood. As Jesus, He spoke and taught through our earthly understanding – about planting seeds and vineyards and sheep. He endured hunger and pain and loss to relate to us.
For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet he did not sin. Hebrews 4:15 NIV
I knelt at Grace’s tiny feet and dipped them in the water again. As I pat them dry with a towel, I was careful to avoid her blisters. I stared. These weren’t just my daughter’s tiny feet; they were the bruised and blistered feet of my Savior. Sometimes you have to be laid low to really see Jesus.
Thank you God for allowing me to understand how to help the hurts of my little girl. But thank you most of all for sending your Son to live as man and helping me relate to You. Open my eyes that I may see You. Amen.