When Brian was just a little guy, maybe 4 years old, I took him to get a vaccination.
We talked about it, how he needed to be safe from sickness, how it would pinch, but just for a minute, and then it would be over and we'd go get ice cream. He understood.
We walked into the doctors room, he sat on the paper-covered table, but when the doctor came in to give him his shot, his face changed. He jumped off the table, was out the door in a flash, and ran down the hall.
I raced after him, scooped him up and held him on my knee. He fought and squirmed but I held him tight until the shot was done. I remember the tremendous flood of love I felt for him as I held him. How much affection I felt, and grieved that I had to hold him down.
The instant the shot was done, he was fine. He took my hand and I reassured him we were still going for ice cream.
I forgot about that incident for a time.
The year Kris was sent by the Air Force to Korea was terrible all around. I had my own 4 little kids, and Maria with all her issues, all the stresses, and holidays, I grieved like a widow.
It was not just a difficult time, it became a pivotal moment in my life.
One day I was scrubbing something and weeping, and the memory came flooding back of Brian and his vaccination. It was as though I was being reminded of how God must feel.
All I can see is my own pain, and don't realize the Lord is holding on to me, saying something like "there is no away around this, only through it, but I'm here."
From time to time, in painful moments, I remember again that we are His children and the Lord holds on to us.
Picture: a painting from Ciudad Antigua, Guatemala
