Pooping with Jesus

The girls and I were finally leaving to go to New Orleans for the weekend.  We’re almost to the interstate when Grace declares that she has to poop. The closest, clean place to use the restroom is Miskelly's, a huge furniture store. I pull in, unload the girls and head to the bathroom. Grace is going to the bathroom with the door open so she can talk to Aubrey and me. Aubrey has other plans and tries to close the stall door; can’t say that I blame her. An older woman comes in to use the restroom and I apologize for the door being open, etc, etc. Grace finishes up about the same time as the lady. As Grace is leaving the stall, Aubrey decides to close the stall door yet again and catches Grace’s fingers. I know this hurt, but Grace is my dramatic child and I’m pretty sure everyone in the store heard her screaming bloody murder. I sit her on the counter, run her fingers under the cold water and try to calm her down. The lady decides that she is going to step in at this point and try to “help.” She tells Grace to put her hands together and pray to Jesus that her fingers stop hurting. Grace and I both look at this lady like she’s lost her damn mind. I tell her I think right now what we need is ice and not prayer. Now the lady is looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. The only thing I could come up with is “after we finishing praying to Jesus and he’s done walking on water; do you think he could turn some of that into ice for her fingers?” I’m pretty sure I may have put another old lady down in the Miskelly’s bathroom.

Side Note: Obviously, I’m not saying that praying to Jesus is a bad thing. I just didn’t feel like this was the appropriate time. I was more in first aid mode at this point.