I Love Your Boo Boos

“I love Aunt Rae Rae and I love her boo boos,” was the sentence my 2-year-old niece, Mariah, uttered yesterday. I was so shocked by her phrasing I started laughing. Which made her think she said something right and then she kept repeating it.

I believe what she was trying to communicate was an unconditional love for me, every part of me, including my chronic illness. I have 8 nieces and nephews among my 4 siblings. This child is unique. She has an unusual sensitivity towards those in pain at a very young age.

My body’s latest trick is that my feet turn pink, red, and purple, the skin becomes dry like a reptile, and I have 10-15 blisters per foot that just show up. The pain is severe, it feels like my feet are burning in a fire that can’t be put out. I hate being the aunt, sister, friend who is once again bedbound and having to elevate my feet. I feel a sense of embarrassment at my weakness. I hate being the person hanging upside down with my feet held high, my ugly, miscolored, blistered, reptile feet high up for all to see.

I’ve done nothing but physical therapy, occupational therapy, and everything the doctors have asked to improve these last 13 years. I don’t know why, but I often feel a sense of shame for not being like others. I can’t work, can’t drive, can’t escort my own wheelchair. Now I can’t even go to a friend’s house unless I’m laying around with my “boo boo feet” high up. But in this fire there is something I never expected. The compassion of a child trying to soothe my pain.

I think I mentioned to her once that I was elevating my feet because I have  “boo boos.” Then she wondered why I would soak my feet in cold water or wear ice packs. I try not to show pain in my face around the children. I don’t want them to carry the burden of my pain.

But now every time I see Mariah, she immediately comes up to me, rubs my feet, hugs them, and even kisses my boo boos.

I was so humbled and almost cringed when she kissed my feet. I have blisters on them, so I didn’t want her exposed to any germs. I tried to tell her, “That’s so sweet but let’s try not to kiss my feet and you can just touch them.” I didn’t want to take away the most precious part of her heart, the servant of all. She seemed fine with that.

Now she just hugs my feet and tries to rub them. Even if I’m soaking them in a bucket of water, she puts her hands on them and says, “I wub you feet make you feel better.”

Jesus also washed His disciples’ feet. The Bible says,

“After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet…”

In the first century, walking in sandals on dusty roads, sweating, and not having access to running water, people’s feet would become filthy. When they entered a home, they would take their shoes off and the lowest servant of the house would bring a basin of water and wash their feet.

Jesus was their master, their Lord, and He took on the “lowest position” as an illustration of the attitude He wanted His followers to have.

Then He tells His disciples,

“I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you.” John 13:15

I am constantly asking God to clean my soul and make me more like Him. I realize this season is an opportunity to adopt an attitude of a humble servant as Christ did.

What’s harder is allowing others to serve me. But that is part of humility.

I find myself talking to my nieces and nephews about scriptures more often since I’ve been bedbound. I told my 11-year-old niece how I feel like my health is often my “weakness I boast about.”  I will gladly tell others about the struggle because then they ask, “How do you keep doing this?” The truth is, it is God’s spirit in me that keeps me going. I hold onto this scripture.

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 2 Cor 12:9

I hope and pray each day that this season of “fiery feet” ends soon. I pray that I’m able to get out of bed soon. I lay here, typing, but drowsy from the IV medicine I now have to give myself through the port in my chest. It is hard. It is exhausting. And there are times I feel overwhelmed.

But beauty grows after a storm of hopelessness. I see my own weakness; the discouragement I battle and my inability to keep persevering. I ask God for refreshment and strength. It might be hours, days, or sometimes longer. But I see something change in my attitude. I “suddenly” have the soul strength to keep going. I have hope. I see the good in this season. It is Christ’s spirit in me.

During this season I also see God’s glimmers of light. The flowers sent to my home from my sister. My best friend stopping by with a gift and hug. My mom crying with me and stroking my hair. My doctor moving mountains medically to try and get me help.

 And a 2-year-old child who holds and kisses my feet. She doesn’t find me embarrassing, or cringe at my weakness. She “Loves me and my boo boos.”