Tuesday, May 17, 2016

pain

Humans of New York has been featuring pediatric cancer patients this month.  It hurts but it's so familiar.  The pain of the parents, the sweetness of the kids, the agony of the doctors and nurses.  

Sometimes it hurts to read about the healing that we wanted so badly.  Mostly it hurts just to read about all that these families have to endure.  It's so hard, and yet so beautiful.

Today hurt me down to the core.  A little girl named Gracie shared about how it felt when her heart was stopped.  The pain.  I hadn't heard it described before, and then several more adults described it in the comments.  The adenosine shot is pushed into your IV line and literally stops your heart.  Clive had this done dozens and dozens of times.  Sometimes just one after another after another.  I knew he felt it.  It was all over his face.  I've had to ignore a lot of those thoughts of his pain, out of sheer emotional survival for myself.

Our little boy knew so much love in his 5 weeks, but he knew pain all too well.  He experienced so much more pain than most of us will ever experience.  Those shots were only a small fraction of it.  The last 10 days of his life were so pain-ridden.  His body was broken in almost every way by the end.  We took one photo post-surgery, the only photo in his last 10 days.  We didn't want to take it, but we knew that if he lived we needed to show him how God brought him back from the brink of death.  I've not looked at it since, and I don't think I ever will.  It is a picture of suffering.  And Clive is not suffering anymore.

Sam held me tonight and reminded me of that truth.  That no matter the suffering he endured and the unfairness of it all, it's over.  He's okay now.  More than okay.

And I thought of Jesus, and the suffering he endured for us.  And I thought of God and the pain he felt as he watched his son.  And it doesn't dull that pain, but it helps to know my king understands it so well.    

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