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Out To Pastor
My father has been gone for 15 years. One of my father’s “jokes” was, “Son, I’m so sick and tired of being sick and tired.” Then he would laugh, and I would, of course, join in with his laughter. Although I was laughing, I did not get the punch line.
In the hospital recently, I thought about my dad’s “joke.” And believe me, I was sick and tired of being sick and tired of the hospital.
Every morning, I would ask if I was going home today. It was the first thing on my mind when I woke up. Is today the day?
The staff always replied, “No, I don’t believe you’ll be going home today. Maybe tomorrow.”
Every day, I had nurses coming in with their favorite instrument, the needle, to give me my shots for the day.
Pain is something that is not one of my friends. Those needles in the hands of those nurses created pain in this body of mine.
On the first day, when one of the nurses came in to give me my first needle shot, said, “There’s no need to worry. This will not hurt in any way.” Then she smiled at me, a smile I’ll never forget until I’m in my coffin.
To this day, I do not know what she understood pain to be. But that very first needle shot in my stomach was painful, according to my definition of pain.
After I gasped most hurtful, the nurse said, “See, that didn’t hurt, did it?”
I smiled and said, “I didn’t feel a thing.” She smiled back at me most wonderfully.
After the third day of being stuck with needle after needle after needle, I leaned back in my bed and thought a lot about those needles. Then, a thought came to my mind. What that nurse held in her hand as she entered my room was “A Needle Named Miss Ouch.”
Every time I got a needle shot in my stomach, the nurse always looked at me, smiled, and said, “This isn’t going to hurt.”
Of course, it’s not going to hurt her. The hurt is on my side of the needle, not hers?
As I was recovering from the last shot from Miss Ouch, I began to rethink this whole matter. Was it really that needle causing me pain? I thought about that for a while.
Would the needle pierce my stomach if it was not for the nurse? The pain is not a result of the needle but rather a result of the nurse. She is the source of my pain.
That caused me to think a little bit. Because the nurse was in control of the needle, it could be more or less painful, and I tried to make sure that it was going to be less painful. I tried to smile cheerfully at my nurse and not let her know I was in pain. I did not want to upset her because an upset nurse can cause more pain through the needle.
Resting in my bed a verse of scripture came to mind. James 1:2-3, “My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.”
With the needle came pain, but also, the medicine I need. Through pain comes my medical solution.
