Sometimes, I have these conversations with God…
“Lord, this thing I’m going through–it hurts. You know that, right? You can see that I’m hurting? You said that You love me, and I believe that, so, Lord, could you…ah…MAKE THE PAIN STOP! please…
God doesn’t mind honest prayers, even when they border on (as mine sometimes do) accusation. He knows I’m wondering how a loving Father could allow this. How could He let His child hurt like this? I would never…
And then I remember my kids.There were times, as a parent, when I had to inflict pain. Times I had to watch them deal with pain they caused, and times I supported them through painful situations where they were innocent victims. Each scenario ripped my heart out with love for them.
When my eldest daughter was five, she contracted epiglottis. Her epiglottis swelled and threatened to cut off her breathing, necessitating emergency surgery to put a tube down her throat. While in ICU, the tube would become clogged with mucus, and they had to slide a smaller tube down it to clear it. Frightened and in pain, she would flail and scream, but no sound came forth, because it bypassed her voice box. Watching her was excruciating.
When my middle daughter was in grade five, she was the victim of bullies. Not the knock-you-down-and-hurt-you kind, but the nasty, catty girl kind. I did what I could (talked with her and worked with the teacher) but I didn’t do what I wanted to, which was take the girls behind the school and slap them–hard. I had to watch her pain.
When my son was small, he touched the heater he’d been told many times never to go near. The resulting burns necessitated a trip to the Emergency department and a long, tormenting night. He kept waking, crying out in pain, and I was desperate to make the pain stop for him. But I couldn’t.
It’s agonising, but sometimes necessary, to watch your children in pain. They don’t always understand why you don’t intervene. Or that you are intervening. All they know is the pain, the intolerable pain that won’t stop.
Today, Lord, I thank you for the miracle of the tough stuff. I don’t like it–it hurts. But I’m thankful that I have a Heavenly Father who loves me, and Who is with me, holding me, as I go through it.
“If your heart is broken, you’ll find God is right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, He’ll help you catch your breath.”
The miracle of the tough stuff. And a God who is there.
Has there been a time when, years later, you understood how God had been with you through the tough stuff?