It wasn’t a snake.

But Josiah thought it was.

Scott and I were playing a game of pool (eight-ball) in celebration of his completion of the ministry’s 2009 year-end report, in preparation for our upcoming annual ministry board meeting.  He had been way ahead, but I had come back nicely and was just about to sink the eight-ball to win the game, when Josiah came hobbling into the playroom and somewhat hysterically asked us to help him with his foot.

New neighbors moved in next door today.  We had met the four kids (blended family?), and after supper our kids had gone out to play with them.  They all went down to the creek.  That’s where I thought they were when Josiah burst in on my painstaking shot alignment.  He was hollering that he was pretty sure he’d been bitten by a snake, and there were two (fang?) punctures in his foot, and it hurt like crazy, and it was bleeding profusely (he held up his foot to prove the point, and, to his credit, it was dripping blood all over the place), and would we PLEASE come and help him, and would we please HURRY, and he surely hoped it wasn’t poisonous, because that would be very bad.  He was pretty intense.

So, we followed him back through the dining room – where there were splotches of blood on the floor every few feet – and into the kitchen, where Scott helped him get his foot into the sink so we could clean it up.  Once it had been rinsed off and doused with hydrogen peroxide, Scott examined the foot (while Josiah gritted his teeth and winced) and declared that it had only one puncture (maybe a nail or something?), that nothing appeared to be stuck in it, and that it wasn’t a snake bite.

Dried and bandaged, Josiah said the cut no longer hurt.  Really, I’m not sure how anything could hurt his feet, as they must be as tough as cowhide.  He never wears shoes except in public, and his feet get banged up, beat up, and cut up all the time.  In fact, two or three days ago, he did something to the same (snake bit) foot and has a nasty cut right up under the toes.  Does that motivate him to wear shoes?  Heck no.  Do I get too bent out of shape over his foot injuries?  Heck no.

As he hopped on one foot into the living room to read and pray with Scott, I did overhear him say, “maybe I should wear shoes tonight.”  Don’t worry.  I’m sure his backwoods hick image is still intact.  That thought about shoes probably only lasted ten minutes.


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