Butterfly Band-Aids and a Streak of Ornery

Mariah and David

Poor Joe and his Booboo

   The week was busy with comings, goings, people, work being done, just everyday life in a Big House that seems to turn on a revolving door.  The text came through from doc…”Mariah, can you come to your office, one of the men on the construction team has been injured.”  I actually get these texts quite often when the various teams are visiting, there always seems to be need for me to put my “Big People” nursing skills to work and so I quickly made my way up to 5 and entered my office to find Doc- he was there with David and Joe, Joe was holding a blood stained rag to his hand.  Steve, smiled said, “Can you put those ER skills to work, I looked at it and think it can just be cleaned and bandaged up good.” He then headed out to get back to work.  I was left with David and Joe.  Sitting Joe down I began to unwrap the finger he had been holding as he explained that he was holding a board in place when the drill that was being used slipped and went through the base of his thumb nail.  As I cleaned, and began working on putting a bandage on the area David of course was telling me I needed to make the dressing really big so that the poor guy who drilled the hole would know how bad it was- the men in my office laughed, joked, and in general acted like the men I have grown up around.  There must have been a twinkling streak of spit fire in my eyes as I grabbed the biggest roll of gauze I could and began bandaging his whole hand.  They both stopped watched me wrap, grinned from ear to ear and Joe said, “Mariah, we have watched you all week bringing drinks, snacks, checking on us, being so very sweet, but now I see that under all that sweet there is a streak of ornery.”    My mind raced with moments, I was back in the barn hearing Grandpa calling for me to run get a butterfly band-aid and “Don’t tell your Grandma.” That always meant there was a rather large gaping wound and we children knew we needed to get daddies and uncles to convince Grandpa to do more than put a butterfly on it and to protect him from Grandma.  My grandpa passed that streak of ornery on to his boys and maybe that is one of the things that influenced me in my decision to be a nurse, growing up Daddy was always getting injuries- he worked hard and thus the injuries were never really little ones but he also always told us he was just fine and so you just cleaned, patched, splinted the little finger, and kept right on working…all the “Bywater Boys” were like that and my Momma and Aunties just shake their heads and ask if they need more Hydrogen Peroxide or maybe a little bit bigger piece of gauze?  I glanced up from my work and said, “I get it from my Daddy’s side.”

  After Joe and David left my office to return to the construction work they had come to do and of course give some ribbing to the poor drill holding team member I could not help but think of Joe’s comment. Yes, there is a streak of ornery, it runs deep, it makes my blood pressure rise when I see things that just shouldn’t be, it sends an irritated ripple through to my very core when I think of all the injustice, the unfair, the things that make me want to scream.  There are the moments when I know that my response with that streak is on the sinful side, it brings out the sarcastic remark, the eye roll that is not because I am teasing, or the harsh retort, but there is the side that helps me work through some of the harder parts of life, to tease, to laugh, to realize that I was created in the image of my Heavenly Father… “I get it from my Daddy’s side.”