Tag: Personal Growth

  • The Fingernail

    Wanna see something painfully ugly? Not to mention the dry skin. Ugh.

    On February 2, 2025, my son John Jr. came upstairs and told me, “Dad, it’s getting ready to snow outside.”

    There was a very light drizzle, and I didn’t want to have to scrape the windows in the morning, so I pulled out the handy SubZero ArcticDefense MAXX Windshield Cover that I had purchased from Sam’s Club.

    I had the driver’s side door open so I could tuck one of the cover’s flaps inside the door. The idea is simple: shut the door on the flap, and it stays securely in place overnight.

    As I reached over with my left hand to close the door, my right finger got caught at the top of the door frame.

    Curses. Curses and more curses.

    A sharp pain shot through my finger instantly. My first instinct was to jerk my hand free, but I knew that would probably make things worse. My right index finger was trapped between the top of the driver’s side door and the frame, with the door completely shut.

    Fear hit first.

    What the heck had I just done to my finger?

    Then came anger. Not at anyone in particular, just anger that it had happened at all. My right hand—my dominant hand—was pinned in place, and the door handle was just far enough away that I couldn’t reach it.

    Awkwardly, I stretched my left hand across my stomach, reached for the handle, and pulled the door open.The moment the pressure released, the throbbing began.

    For a brief moment, I blamed it on my son.

    After all, it didn’t even really snow.

    My son’s prediction turned out to be right. He told me the nail would turn black, and he genuinely felt bad for me.

    By the next day, my finger was black and swollen to what seemed like more than half its normal size, so I went to urgent care.

    The X-rays showed no broken bones, which was a relief. The doctor then performed a procedure called nail trephination, drilling a tiny hole through the nail to release the blood that had built up underneath it. That’s the little circle you can see in the picture above.

    The relief was almost immediate.

    That tiny hole sure did help.

    Change Takes Time

    About ten days later, my fingernail still wasn’t winning any beauty contests.

    In fact, if you looked at it from the outside, it didn’t seem like much had changed at all. The damaged portion of the nail was still there, dark and unattractive. But something important was happening beneath the surface.

    A new nail had already begun to grow.

    What I learned is that fingernails grow from an area beneath the cuticle called the nail matrix. As the new nail forms, it slowly pushes the damaged nail forward until the old nail eventually grows out and is replaced.

    The interesting part is that the process isn’t instant.

    The damaged nail doesn’t simply disappear overnight. For a period of time, the old and the new exist together. The healthy nail is growing, but the evidence of the injury is still visible.

    Life often works the same way.

    Many of us want change to happen immediately. We want the new habit, the new mindset, the new career, the improved health, the restored relationship, or the better life to appear overnight. But meaningful change usually happens beneath the surface long before anyone can see it.

    The fingernail reminded me of braces.

    Anyone who has worn braces knows that the process isn’t always comfortable. Every adjustment by the orthodontist creates pressure. Sometimes your teeth ache for days afterward. Yet that discomfort serves a purpose. The teeth are gradually being moved into proper alignment.

    The goal isn’t the temporary discomfort. The goal is the finished result.

    In the same way, growth often comes with pressure. Change can be uncomfortable. Sometimes it can even be painful. But discomfort does not mean that progress isn’t taking place.

    Sometimes the discomfort of change shows up in our relationships.

    As we grow, our priorities change. We begin to value different things. We may become more intentional with our time, our health, our faith, our finances, or our purpose. When that happens, some relationships naturally change as well.

    That doesn’t mean the other person is bad, and it doesn’t mean either of you did something wrong.

    Sometimes people simply grow in different directions.

    A friend who was a perfect fit for one season of your life may not be the right fit for the next. The conversations no longer inspire you. The goals no longer align. The places you want to go and the person you are trying to become may be different from where they want to go.

    That realization can be uncomfortable.

    There can be sadness in creating distance from people you genuinely care about. There can be guilt. There can be loneliness. There can even be moments when you question whether you’re making the right decision.

    But growth often requires making room for what comes next.

    Just as the new nail slowly pushes the damaged nail forward, sometimes personal growth gently pushes us toward new environments, new opportunities, and new relationships that better align with who we are becoming.

    The process isn’t always easy, but it is often necessary.

    Just because we can’t immediately see the results doesn’t mean the process isn’t working.

    Sometimes the new version of ourselves is already growing beneath the surface, slowly pushing the old version away.

    Trusting the Process

    As I write this, my fingernail is completely back to normal.

    The new nail continued to grow, slowly pushing the damaged portion forward. Week by week, the old nail had less space to occupy, and the healthy nail had a little more.

    That’s how change often works.

    We want transformation to happen quickly. We want the new job, the healthier body, the repaired relationship, the completed book, or the fulfilled dream to arrive immediately. Instead, change usually arrives a little at a time.

    The challenge is that we often judge the process too early.

    We look at our lives and see the damaged nail. We focus on what isn’t finished, what still hurts, or what hasn’t changed yet. What we fail to notice is that something new may already be growing beneath the surface.

    The fingernail never fought the process. It simply continued growing.

    Perhaps there is wisdom in that.

    Sometimes our job isn’t to force change. Sometimes our job is to trust the process, remain patient, and keep moving forward one day at a time.

    Eventually, what is healthy replaces what was damaged.

    Eventually, what is new replaces what is old.

    And eventually, if we stay committed to the process, growth becomes visible to everyone.