When Pain Trumps the Pain

I've got a friend who recently had shoulder surgery and wrist surgery on the same day. I was able to visit with her just yesterday and inquired about her recovery.

She shared how the shoulder has mobility, but still is quite painful.  Lifting is difficult, but a necessary part of mothering a young child.  

When I asked her about her wrist she said something that was interesting.  She said that before the procedure the surgeons explained that, even though wrist surgery is painful, the pain is trumped by the shoulder pain and she most likely would not notice it as much.  

She happily told me it was true.  As bad as the pain from her shoulder was, it had drawn nearly all the attention away from her wrist.  It was a blessing in disguise.

I thought about that concept in a spiritual sense. Afflictions aren't a lone breed.  They usually come in pairs, or even packs.  When when ball drops, so does the next.  When a domino falls, it knocks down the others. 

Sometimes we are so bombarded by trials that we just feel pain.

But, maybe that is wisdom in God's plan.  Part of the purpose of life is be tested and tried.  Salvation has a cost, and it isn't cheap.  If we experienced each affliction, each trial, each pain or discomfort in a string of individual experiences, our lives would probably be filled with a never-ending stream of troubles, problems, adversity and pain. Each individual trial would receive our full attention, and we would experience all the pain and frustration associated with it.

But, God in His infinite wisdom, has taken that string of trials and combined and spaced them into clusters of manageable afflictions. (When I say manageable, I mean that we will never be given more than we can handle.)

As we experience multiple difficulties, the harder, more painful ones, trump the lesser ones.  We can experience them and endure them without the full affect of their pain, and yet still be beneficiaries of the blessings that come from enduring them in faith.

Not that I'm a big fan of pile-up trials   - or any trials for that matter.  But the trials in this life are what allow us the opportunity to learn and grow, to stretch and choose who we will be.

I've had a few in my life- but as I look back at those times, I can see that this principle rings true- at least in my life.  As I am going through something big, smaller trials pop up the seem unimportant, even trivial in comparison. But, if I would have experienced them alone, they might have caused me a great deal of discomfort, even pain.

One of the greatest blessings of these cluster trials is the sweet relief when the healing begins and the trials and pain lessons, and the lessons and blessings of peace and growth take their place.  We have more spiritual strength and mobility, and we are better for the wear.

It just goes to show that, truly, we can see God and His wisdom in nearly every aspect of our lives.  Even a shoulder/wrist surgery.  I'm grateful to my friend for inviting me into her home, sharing a fun afternoon and giving me such great food for thought.

More Stairs? Seriously?

I spent the day in Seattle yesterday enjoying the sights and sounds of the city.  I walked through Pike Place Market, saw the ferries in the sound, ate gelato and even saw a political protest in the middle of a busy intersection.  It was quite an eventful day.

But, the highlight of my day was a lunch date with my husband. He wanted to take me somewhere different for lunch, so we grabbed some teryaki from a local deli and headed to the rooftop patio of Rainier Square.

We walked inside the mall and found the flight of stairs that led to the top.  Now, I don't mind a few stairs.  My home is a two-story house and I seem to manage alright. But, you see, I've got Parker Knees.  You won't find it in any medical book- it's a family condition that runs in our family, on the Parker side.  It means I've got crappy knees that creek, crack, pop and ache.  They also hurt like crazy when I walk up and down stairs.

So, when we approached the first flight of stairs, I was ok.  I have become immune to climbing one or two flights. But, the stairs kept coming and coming.  By the time we reached what we thought was the last set of stairs my husband said, "I should have found you an elevator." 

And there were still two more flights.

(Now- before you assume the building is a million stories high, there were only five sets of stairs- but with Parker knees five seems like a million.)

I started up the stairs and felt a shooting pain in my knee.  Instinctively I reached out for my husband's hand and he held it the rest of the way. He didn't pull me up the stairs, he simply held my hand. But it made me feel so much better.

As I stood at the bottom of the last flight of stairs I could see the windows above and the glass door which let to the roof patio (insert angelic choirs singing, Aaaaaaaaa in unison.)

The hike up the stairs was worth it.We had a wonderful lunch together enjoying each others' company and the beautiful elevated view of Seattle.

I thought about my little stair incident this morning. The stairs were not insurmountable, but they were a painful challenge (did I mention that I am still walking on sore pinky toe I broke last month. Poor me!) But, as I held my husband's hand I got the support I needed ease some pain and get to the top. 

It was a small act on his part, and he probably didn't realize the impact it had on me, but it did.

In Hebrews 12:12 Paul exhorts the people to "lift up the hands which hang down, and the feeble knees."

Most of life's most challenging times are not the make-it-or-break-it ones.  They are often those times when we are "enduring to the end."  When the challenges we face are ongoing or repeating: sickness, a challenging child, financial issues, depression, etc.     

It's those times that we might look at the day and think, "More? Seriously?" We may doubt ourselves and feel discouraged. But,  Heavenly Father knows we can make it. He also knows how much a supportive hand can help. 

At times when our hands hang down, or our knees feel feeble, have faith.  God is aware and will send support.  Then there are times when we are the ones that lift another.

He is aware of our trials, but most often He answers prayers by through those around us. So, when you stand in the middle of your trials and see another batch of the same, and think, "More trials? Seriously?" Look around. Someone will be there to lift you up. 

Most likely someone already is-you just have to reach out- keep going and then enjoy the view.

The Moment of Truth

I write a lot on my blog about the power that we have withing ourselves to make the right choice.  I write often of faith, strength, perspective and enduring.

Those are all easy things to write about when the sea is calm.  But what about when the storm comes? Is it as easy to say, "Thy will be done?" or "The Lord qualifies those He calls" when the the sea is no longer still?

One day, not too long ago, a storm came into my life.  A big one. All the things that I knew were put to the test: God's will is the best for me; He will give me the strength to do hard things; I can be happy in the middle of struggles; I willingly carry my cross because that is how I become like my Savior.

In the first moments I faltered.  The realization of the terrible storm brought tears of frustration, anger and even resentment. I didn't not want this trial.  I did not sign up for it.  I did not think I could endure it. It was too much to ask.  Can He make it go away?

The moments turned to hours. The tears came and went, then came again. The doubts, frustrations and anger went sent through prayer to heaven with no answer in return.

Then, soon after I had the chance to hear the answer given to me through my good husband: This is our burden to bear, our load to carry. And we are asked to carry it because we can, and we will.  Heavenly Father will give us the knowledge, the patience and the understanding we need to get through it.  There is wisdom in all things- even the painful ones.

I hated that he was right, so I cried a little more. I wanted to fight, I wasn't willing to accept just yet.

Then he bought me chocolate cookies and I stopped crying.

He reminded me of something I would often say, "Just because life is easy doesn't mean it's good, and just because life is hard doesn't mean it's bad." He smiled and said, "We can do hard things, Michelle.  And we can do this."

Then came the moment of truth: the moment where I had to make a choice: The moment I decided how I will respond to the storm.  Will I continue to scream at the wind and the waves as they thrash me about? Or will I put on the protective gear and do my best to steer the boat through the storm? Do I let anger, resentment and frustration take control? Or do I make the choice to believe and do?

In that moment I chose to stop yelling at the waves, and to steer the boat.  Almost immediately I began to feel a little better, a little lighter and a little hopeful.

He bought me a chocolate shake and I began to smile.

I am still in the middle of the storm.  The waves are so tall that I cannot seem to see past them. My boat has been rocked and I feel seasick. I have done an inventory of my abilities and found that I am seemingly unqualified to steer the boat.  But, I know who can see the entire sea, and He is telling me things will be alright.  I choose to believe Him (and my husband.)

And, for the first time, even in the middle of the storm, I feel peace.

The Door is Open

I have a chocolate lab named Tess.  We love her and she is madly devoted to us. She is a sweet dog that has moments of brilliance, but for the most part is not that bright.  For example, often times when open the back door to let her outside, she will walk onto the patio, then turn around and come right back into the house - even when I know she needs to "go potty" (yes, we talk to our dog like she is our forever-toddler.)

This morning was no different.  She hadn't been out since last night so I knew she needed to go.  I opened the back door.  She walked onto the porch, then immediately turned around and stared up at me, tail wagging.  She would have come back inside but I was still standing at the door.

"Go potty."

Stare.

"Go potty."

Stare.

"Go potty!"

Pitiful stare.

Finally, I just walked away from dumb dog on the porch and the open door, fully expecting her to follow me inside.

But she didn't.

She stood there for a minute and stared through the open door.  Then she turned around and ran out the to grass.  Soon after she came running back inside and straight to me as if to say, "I did it! Are you proud of me?"

I looked at my dumb dog then back at the open door. Then it hit me.

Tess knew was she needed to do.  But it was only when the door was left open - not closed to her- that she went to do it.  When she knew there was a way back in the house she felt she could go.

I realized then that Tess wasn't so dumb. In fact, she is a lot like us.

We used to live in this beautiful place with our heavenly family.  It was our home. We loved our Heavenly Father, and he loved us.  He loved us so much that He created this earth for us so that we could learn and grow. We don't remember that life before. That was purposeful, so that we might be able to develop faith in this life.

So, here we are, in this sometimes very cold, world.  Just like Tess, we sometimes find ourselves staring back home and not wanting to budge.  It's scary down here.  It's hard down here. I am hurting.  I feel alone. 

Luckily (although it isn't really luck) the door has been left open for us.

Life can be hard and scary.  And sometimes we just want to feel safe - feel peace - like we did when we were "home." But take heart. The door is open.  There is a way home.

The Savior has opened the door, through His Atonement. And He has shown us the way back home. So let's have courage in tough times, and faith in the night. Let's find joy in our imperfections and strive to be more.  Let's love and serve others while loving ourselves.  Let's learn of His commandments, and follow Him. Let's be like Paul and "fight the good fight."

The door is open. We can go about our work here with faith and confidence.  We will never be left out. We will never be lost.  We will be forgotten. There is a way home.

As I type this, Tess is lying on the floor at my feet.  Her tail is gently thumping in peaceful contentment.  She is home.

No, she isn't so dumb after all.