The little man wore holey socks. His long bird-like talons cut the toe of the socks until a hole wore through. He then switched feet for the socks so there was a matching hole on the other side. Sometimes holes even showed up on the underside of the socks. If you happened to see those claw nails escape the socks, you would surely gasp at the atrocity.
One job I said I would not do was cut the little man’s toenails. They were horrendous. Though I would have done it if there was no other choice, I declared emphatically, “I won’t cut his toenails! I’ll cook for him; I’ll clean up any messes he makes; I’ll shower him; I’ll toilet him; I’ll get up in the middle of the night and change his sheets; I’ll take him to his appointments. I’ll even administer his suppositories, but I won’t cut his toenails!”
I thought about calling a farrier, but then my tall daughter came to the rescue, “I’ll cut his nails.” I was relieved. Not only was she performing a job I didn’t want to do, but she was also getting training to cut my nails that look just like my dad’s.
Oh, if you could have seen that little man when she came to the house with her clippers! She bought a massage soaking tub for his feet. Gently, she massaged his feet as she rubbed ointment on them, placing each in the tub to soak and soften those ghastly sharp misshaped weapons. She sang songs as she lovingly washed his feet and trimmed his nails. You would have thought he had been given the best of gifts. His eyes danced and a broad smile covered his face. The smile on my face was almost as big because I didn’t have to do that task.
What I saw as a thankless terrible chore, she saw as an act of love, selfless service, and respect for the little man she held dear to her heart – foot washing.
By the way, “thanks Daddy for passing on your feet to me.” At least I know who can cut my nails! I, too, served a little man with respect and love even when I said, “Now bend over!”
