I’ve saved this little illustration for a while now, just because it tapped into tenderness inside of me. I re-read it today, and as I anticipate seeing my granddaughters this weekend, I decided to share it and be grateful.
When my oldest son was about 4 years old, he told me that “The bandaids at Granny’s are better. I like it when Granny puts on my bandaid.”
I immediately called my mother to find out what magic brand of bandages she was putting on skinned knees and sore fingers, only to discover that they were the same brand we bought in the large economy size at our house.
The next time we visited, I had a chance to watch her in action and I learned why Granny’s bandaids were better. It had nothing to do with size, shape, or what cartoon character was printed on the bandage.
When Granny put a bandage on your skinned knee there was quite a bit of ceremony attached to the event. There was discussion of the wound and how it came about, examination of the cut or scrape with commentary regarding the size and shape, a listing of possible treatments, and then the careful and ceremonial placing of the little piece of plastic and gauze, followed by a big kiss on the sore spot and a hug. If the injury was particularly painful, or inflicted in a way that also resulted in hurt feelings, quite a bit of lap time was often added until the wounded child felt healed and able to return to the business of being a kid.
As I watched, I realized why Granny’s bandaids and her method of healing bumps and scrapes was better. The healing offered was complete and addressed not only the injury to the body, but the spirit. The injured child got focused attention, hugs and kisses. Granny didn’t just see a cut finger; she saw whole little person it was attached to.
Because he felt loved, he felt healed. – Author Unknown
I am grateful for the opportunity to be a grandparent again.
I am grateful for flexible bandaids and cartoon bandaids and clear bandaids and a new box of bandaids and the different kind of paper wrapping that comes with a bandaid.
I am grateful for people who throw their used bandaids in the trash and wrap them in toilet paper or a kleenex so other people don’t have to witness ewww.
I am grateful for sweet words like “boo-boo” and “ouchy.”
I am grateful for Moms (and Grandmas) who counteract tough Dads and others. You know, those tough Dads who say, “It’s just a scrape/cut/little blood/broken elbow/gash (take your pick at the injury inflicted). Don’t baby her! She’s just fine.” Sometimes, that creates a mental injury inflicted… Just sayin’.
And I am grateful that even though my scars are visible…