Fingernails and Forgiveness

When I was a child we lived in Hong Kong. My parents were missionaries, and we were not rich, but compared to the average Chinese family there, we were very wealthy. In that culture, wealthy people had servants, so we had a servant, too. Ah-King was our combination cook, housekeeper and nanny.

Ah-King would let me hang around while she squatted to cut vegetables for dinner, did the wash, or whatever. One day, when she and I were the only ones home, I wandered away from her into my parents' bedroom. Bored and looking for something to pass the time, I drifted into their bathroom and came upon the beautiful sight of my mother's red fingernail polish sitting on the counter. Somehow knowing I shouldn't but not being able to resist, I proceeded to paint my fingernails while unintentionally daubing bright red patches all over my fingertips and parts of the bathroom counter and sink as well.

Just about the minute I put the brush back in the bottle for the last time, Ah-King came looking for me. Hearing her calling my name, I closed the door and locked it quickly, smearing red polish on the doorknob. Seconds later her Chinese-accented voice came through the heavy wooden door, "Miss Joy, you in there?"

I frantically turned the faucet on and began washing my hands. "Yes," I answered, voice quavering. "I'm almost finished. I had to go to the bathroom, and I'm washing my hands." The lie hung heavy in the room, feeling like a weight on my back.

Imagine my little-girl horror when the red stuff wouldn't come off!! I scrubbed and scrubbed to no avail, and my dismay quickly turned to dread.

"Miss Joy, what you doing?" Ah-King persisted. "Open this door."

Realizing I was a cooked goose, I turned the lock and slowly peeked out, clasping my hands behind my back (which, by the way, is a sure indication that a child has something to hide). Ah-King leveled her small frame against the large wooden door and pushed into the bathroom.

"Ah-ee-ya!" she cried. "What you been doing in here?"

"I-I was just trying to ma-make my fin-fingernails pretty," I sobbed and stuttered, "but it wo-won't come off. Not e-even when I wash with so-oap."

When she saw my hands, Ah-King shook her head and scolded, "Miss Joy, you know you not suppose to play with your mother's things." Then she took a long look at my tear-stained face still frozen in a horrified expression and said, "You never do this again?"

I quickly shook my head "No," so Ah-King opened a drawer and took out a plastic bottle and some cotton pads. She deftly began applying the magic liquid in the bottle to the cotton pads and then used the cotton pads on my fingers, the counter, the sink, the cabinet, the floor and the door. Where red had been, normalcy surfaced. I can still remember the disbelief, relief and gratitude I felt.

"Are you going to tell on me?" I asked, bottom lip protruding.

"No, but you be good, you hear?"

Ah-King had been given the authority of a parent that day, but she chose to be a servant to me. She put herself in my place and cleaned me up. How relieved I was. I couldn't get the 'sin' off me, but she knew how to do it and had mercy on me. She took responsibility for the dirty cotton pads in the trash can. She acted as if it never happened. I honestly don't remember much of anything else Ah-King ever did, but I remember her mercy and I remember that I loved her dearly.

"This the pow'r of the cross;
Christ became sin for us.
Took the blame, bore the wrath -
We stand forgiven at the cross." - Getty