Pinned Down
I never get used to it. That moment the doctor comes in with a syringe, a scalpel, a utensil of some sort and Brynna starts her battle to escape. Last night was no different.
Over the last 10 years we've spent more than our fair share of nights in the ER or hospital rooms. We took Brynna last night because of a serious infection in her ear that wouldn't relent. Her pain tolerance is higher than most men, so when she can't stand the pain, it's time to do something.
I can handle the waiting. I can handle keep her occupied. I can even handle lack of sleep and exorbitant medical costs. What I never get used to is helping. Helping them hold her down while they do whatever it is they must do in order to help her, to make her well.
Brynna is 10 years old and strong as an ox. She pushed back on me with all her might as I gave her the necessary bear hug to hold her still. Mom had her legs. Brynna was crying. I was crying. I tried not to let her see my face as I whispered, "It's ok, baby. I love you. We have to do this to make you well. I love you so much." That's when I caught a glimpse of her eyes.
Those little blue eyes. They were filled with huge crocodile tears, set beneath a furrowed brow that spoke a clear message, "Why daddy? Why don't you stop this? Why are you letting this happen?" I whispered to her as I held her that we had to do it. We had to make her well. I assured her I loved her and this was for her good in the long run.
How many times has Jesus held me in an appropriately strong bear hug in the middle of my hurt, my chastisement, my pain and sorrow, gently whispering, "I love you. We have to do it this way, it's for your good in the long run, to make you well."? The answer is, many.
I'm also certain his eyes, as mine and Brynna's, well up with tears, feeling my hurt, experiencing every ounce of my sorrow. But His great and surpassing love for me occasionally keeps me pinned to the table so I may learn of Him; so I may be more like Him.
Why do I think He weeps for us? Lazarus and his family. Jesus waited to arrive, Lazarus died. The whole family was pinned to the table, the sisters even approached Jesus asking why. Their eyes crying out to Him just like Brynna's to me. His response to Lazarus' family? He wept.
He wept for Lazarus. He wept for the sisters whom He loved. He wept because weeping was appropriate. He knew He was about to raise Lazarus, and He wept anyway.
Next time you are pinned to the table, weeping, know your Savior weeps with you and has your sanctification in mind. Trust Him. Yield to Him. He knows better.
When it was all over last night, Brynna sat up and, through tears, began to hug and kiss us while she cried. As if to say, "I know you love me. I know you can't fix it. It just hurts. I'm not mad at you and thank you for making me better."
Right now she is sitting and playing with her reflection just like always. She seemingly has no memory of last night's pain and sorrow. She is better. We are better, but the pain was necessary to get there.
I want to be like her when I grow up.
