My Toenail Hurts

Have I ever said on this blog, or in any avenue of communication, how much I LOVE my Dad.

I'm stating RIGHT UP FRONT that this post does not diminish that love for him in ANY WAY!

When I was, hmmm, maybe fourteen, my Mom took me to the doctor with an ingrown toenail. The doctor said "it needs to come off" so Mom made the appointment. When we got home, my Dad had a different thought.

Mom/Me -" The toenail has to come off."

Dad - "No. That really hurts. If she doesn't want it to come off, she doesn't have too."

Me - "I don't want to do anything that hurts. (yay, Dad)"

Mom - "Okay, I'll cancel the appointment."

NOW, leap forward 37 years....

I laid on a massage table yesterday and could hardly stand to have my foot on the sheets because my toenail is ingrown and IT HURTS.

Every time I get a pedicure, the sweet pedicure person has to dig out my toenail while I wince and grab whoever is sitting in the chair next to me.

Lesson - have your toenail removed when the doctor says.

True Lesson - doing what's best for you sometimes hurts, but it will hurt a lot less in the long run.

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God has told me for some time now to block out one hour of prayer time a day. Have I done it? No, because it "hurts" my sleep time, my Facebook time, my Words with Friends time. The list could go on and on.

I have had the desire to try to do a Triathlon for YEARS, but I won't even get up to walk on the treadmill. Why? Because it hurts!

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I picked up an old book today, Prayerwalking, and found these lines interesting...

Oh, that d word: discipline. I've never liked it personally. We have met on occasions - with diets, short walks on exercise programs, and a prayer journal attempt or two. But life interfered with our acquaintance, and routines always fell by the wayside. Discipline simply stifles my spontaneity. Why if I were committed to various routines of discipline, I couldn't visit a friend or take my daughter shopping or watch the ducks flying the wrong way.

Just two years ago, I bit my fingernails to their nubs (oh by the way, I was biting my nails, as I read the book) my weight was taxing my back and my knees were giving way as I walked down stairs. I knew what I needed. I needed to exercise to get my strength back again. I also needed to pray - at length.

So she prayerwalks.

I like it, conceptually, of course.

For some reason, I bet the author's Dad didn't make her have her ingrown toenail removed either.