Pain is a Blessing, Pain is a Blessing, Pain is a Blessing...

With all the talk of redemptive suffering I've encouraged amongst my CCD kids, you'd think I wouldn't have to keep repeating this to myself.  Unfortunately, knowing the truth of those words and accepting the truth of those words are two VERY different things.Three years ago, I was involved in a car accident (on election night, actually).  I was rear-ended by a young driver who was watching another car accident across the road.  He didn't see me stopped in front of him, and never had a chance to break until his front end was in my trunk.

Anyway, as a result of that, I've suffered from a herniated disc in my lower back.  It is incredibly painful at times.  Most times, actually, especially when you're a mom attempting to chase down your super active toddler who is bigger than kids twice his age.  My pregnancy was difficult (I got pregnant about a month and a half after the accident), and lugging around a baby, in a car seat, plus diaper bags, toys, etc for the first year didn't help matters.

Bathing, changing diapers, picking him up and moving him from place to place (car seat to shopping cart, floor to high chair, ground to stroller, etc, etc, etc) are all extremely taxing on my back.  Even simple things like throwing him up into the air, letting him "superman" on my legs, or picking him up so he's able to reach a basketball net are painful gestures.  Bathing is still the absolute worst, and only gets worse as he gets bigger. 

Anyway, I had to stop going to the chiropractor about a year ago because finances got tight.  Insurance refused to pay out since I was "as good as it gets" and litigation won't finish for God only knows how long with the guy who smashed into me.  I'm basically on my own for pain management, and over the last few months, I've become increasingly aware of the fact that I simply cannot manage anymore.

I've put pressure on the lawyer to get things wrapped up faster so the insurance company is forced to begin paying for treatments again.  Since they request up-to-date check-ins with doctors, I've had to begin going again.  Yesterday was the first time I'd seen the orthopedist since I was pregnant.  He went over my charts and asked me questions.  He did a quick battery of tests and announced that there was simply nothing that could be done for me short of invasive surgery.  He also openly doubted that I'd be able to get insurance to pay for any of it due to the time-lapse.  He also informed me that the defense lawyer's doctor was attempting to blame the disc herniation on a lumbar puncture I had received prior to the accident (I was tested for meningitis). 

I asked if that was even REMOTELY possible and he laughed it off saying, "Dear God, no.  Not even a little bit.  But that doesn't stop lawyers from convincing people who don't know any better otherwise."

I was absolutely deflated.  Any hope of finding relief from this incessant (and increasingly problematic) pain went up in flames.  The doctor could tell I was upset, so he quickly left the room so I could compose myself in peace.  I hate making folks feel uncomfortable, so I made a rather quick exit, myself, and attempting the consolation dance in the privacy of my car.

I immediately dove head-first into the pool of misery I created for myself.  I felt guilt for not being an "unbroken mom" who could happily toss Vince into the air a million times.  I felt shame for relying on John to get Vince out of the car or lifting him into his high chair when I simply cannot.  I felt overwhelmed by the thought of enduring this pain - as it worsens - for the rest of my life.  Future pregnancies and children... could I handle them?  Or would I be even more broken by the time they came into the world?  Guilt doubled over my lack of parenting for children who didn't even exist yet! 

Then a thought occurred to me.  Jesus must've felt WAY more freaked out than I did at the knowledge of what He was going to be experiencing.  Torture and crucifixion are way worse than any amount of this back pain, and yet He accepted it without a word of complaint to His Apostles.  He understood it was meant for salvation.  My guardian angel must've been the one to whisper "It's redemptive suffering" into my ear, because I was hit with the realization that pain, too, is a blessing if only we open our hearts to its merit.

So I forced myself to stop crying... to ignore the thoughts of self-pity from my mind.  I succeeded in refusing to feel sorry for myself, but I didn't quite accept that the pain was redemptive.  I couldn't open my heart to that just then.  I'm simply not mature enough spiritually, I guess. 

I prayed.  I'm driving down 295 just praying that Jesus will open my heart to the merits of such pain.  Knowing I'm a logical little bugger, I think the Holy Spirit was kind enough to show me the humility I've gained in suffering through this debilitating injury.  Ever-independent, I've prided myself in "not needing anyone."  Now, however, I willingly acknowledge my inability to do even basic things.  This humility, I realized, hasn't just effected things like asking John to help with the baby... the humility I gained from this injury (and continue to gain) is probably what opened my heart to "reversion" in the first place.  I'm not all-powerful.  I'm not so arrogant as to think I can handle everything and anything on my own.  Such a realization is a death knoll for Pride, and though that vice still has its claws dug into me, its grip is slipping. 

Now I'm not claiming that this epiphany has somehow lifted my desire to complain, self-pity or get angry at how "unfair" things are... I no doubt will fall into that countless more times.  It is important to recognize, however, that there is truth to the blessing of redemptive suffering.  I think God granted me this reminder so vividly because of all the discussion we've had in class.  Plus, He probably realized I was getting a little too whiny and needed to knock me down a peg or two (okay, more like 20). 

In conclusion, I am blessed to have a Father so kind as to remind me of the lessons I seek to teach others.  In the process of making me a better teacher, He makes me a better person.  :)

---