Tagg's Man Badge

It was a bright, sunny day in Glendale, Arizona. The McClure boy and his mother strolled into the chapel, dressed to the nines and ready to worship. The first 15 minutes passed by in a wonderfully uneventful manner, with the boy calmly entertaining himself (and his mother) with such delights as board books and Cheerios... and... a toy car. It was that little toy car that changed the face of that Sunday, and the face of that boy. In the midst of their Sunday play, the car found its way to the floor and so, of course, the boy followed. His mother intended to follow as well, making sure the boy could safely reach his car. But intentions sometimes fail us, as that mother's did that morning for her... and her son... and that car. The boy lunged for his toy car almost as fast as the toy itself was lunging for the ground, but instead of being met by either his prized yellow Mustang or his mother's guiding hands, the boy was met with something entirely different: the painfully sharp corner of the hymn holder fixed to the pew in front of him had suddenly collided with his small head. The car quickly forgotten (at least by the mother), the boy was swept up in an instant and swiftly carried to the foyer, where much consoling and cuddling took place before a friend of the mother approached. She posed a query about the cut next to the boy's eye, and the mother was astonished to see that he was, indeed, bleeding. Concerned friends seemed to line up to make sure he was alright, and, thanks to one of those friends, a doctor was found. He offered to make the long journey home to get the needed supplies to patch up the boy's eye. A few cries and a few bandages later, the boy was on his way to recovery; he even found his car. And, perhaps as a challenge to that sharp corner, that boy's eye was healed as good as new by the very next Sunday.