I was downstairs when I heard the cry. My daughter big girl’s voice carried through the house. I could tell this was no ordinary call for help so I stopped was I was doing and raced upstairs. I found her on the floor in my bedroom holding her foot.
She had a splinter in her toe. She freaked out when I tried to touch it. She wanted my help but wouldn’t let me lay a hand on her. I could almost feel her pain as I watched her sob.
Over and over I asked her to let me see it. She said “No!” I told her I was going to back to finish what I was doing. She yelled an even louder, “No!” Then against my better judgment I tried grabbing her leg and holding long enough in intervene. It was no use. This scared and determined child proved stronger than me.
I felt helpless.
She knew it would hurt when I tried to remove the sliver of wood from her skin.
She wanted no part of it. I told her it would continue to cause pain if it wasn’t taken out. She said she didn’t care. I cautioned that it could get infected; it didn’t matter.
If God were snarky, this would be the part when He would say. “Hmm, I wonder where she gets that from.”
For a while now, I have seen reoccurring patterns in my life that I want to change. I have noticed certain insecurities that I can’t seem to shake. I ask God to fill me. I pray to be healed. I’m even open for God to show me roots of the lies I believe.
My journal is filled eloquent requests for God to step in and do what He does. Not seeing Him move the way I would like, I wonder, “Why isn’t He doing anything?” Guess what, He is!
Just as I was sitting right next to my daughter ready to help, ready to heal, so is He. He however is more patient then me. God is waiting for me to risk feeling the pain it takes to get healed.
The perceived pain that I will experience during the healing process overshadows the discomfort I have learned to live with.
I tend to think practically, reason with logic when I get hurt. I do whatever it takes to not feel offense. Years of doing this has given me the ability to shut off emotions like you shut off a faucet. I can easily disengage.
As I get closer to God and desire wholeness He shows me people from my past that I need to forgive I think, “I’m not still angry with them”. When painful memories surface I reason them away. I use my adult logic to justify the actions of others and tell my self it’s silly to think those things matter years later.
Little rejections that are pushed down, buried, and almost forgotten… do matter.
The key is whether to not I will let myself remember them, feel them, and in those moments seek Him. That’s when my Heavenly Father can touch the wound, apply the healing ointment of truth, and bandage it to heal thoroughly.
My daughter knew that if left alone, new skin would grow over her wound. But, she also knew that if she let that happen, the splinter would always be there and occasional pain would be her reminder. So I waited… long enough for my little girl to calm down and the tears to stop falling from her puffy eyes. It took less than 60 seconds to pull the sliver of our wood floor from underneath her skin and a bit of Neosporin to be applied. After a few hugs and kisses she was off doing what kids do and I was back to doing dishes.
It was a reminder that when we surrender to God and embrace HIS process of restoration, healing comes quickly.