Saturday, February 7, 1998

Father's love sometimes leads us through pain

By MELODY DAWES / Guest Columnist

One of my girls called needing clarification on some details of an incident that happened several years ago to use in a teaching situation.

The incident involved her helping me with her little brother for a few minutes while I was involved with another task. She was about 8, and my son was almost 2.

Evidently, he fussed and wanted out of the high chair where he had been content to eat a snack. For some reason, she took him out and sat him on the kitchen bar.

The phone rang, and while she was answering it, my son fell from the bar. He hit a sharp corner, creating a clean slice about a half inch long above hisright eye.

At the emergency room, we were given the option of having the area deadened or going ahead with stitches without a deadening agent. The doctor mentioned that either way, the child would feel the prick of a needle several times.

We chose to go on with the stitches. Our baby was wrapped in a sheet like a mummy. He was laid on the emergency table with a nurse holding down the middle part of his little body while I held his legs and feet.

My husband held the child's head very still while the doctor did the needle work.

He was yelling as only a toddler can, and his little eyes would look up into his father's eyes with a questioning look that appeared to be asking, "Why are you letting someone stick me? Why are you holding me down and letting that man hurt me more? Why don't you rescue me, Daddy?"

It was one of the harder things I've had to watch one of my children go through. When the ordeal was over, we quickly unwrapped the sheet, and he practically jumped into his dad's arm.

He had been screaming for so long and hard that the minute he snuggled onto his dad's shoulder, he laid his head down and went to sleep.

We have discussed many times how there are so many times when we feel like we are lying on the Table of Life wrapped up in a sheet, screaming with pain while watching Life continue to take its course upon us.

It seems as though we are being submitted to more pain, when in actuality we may be receiving the very treatment that will help the wound to heal.

The point my daughter wanted to make to those who were hearing this story is that there are times when we look up into God's eyes and say, "Why don't you make them stop hurting me? Why are you holding me down? Why don't you rescue me?"

We can rest assured that when we are lying there helpless, our Father's eyes are looking deeply into ours with reassurance, and when it is the right time, He will quickly pick us up, hold us close, and we will rest soundly in the aftermath of the tragedy.

Melody Dawes is a Sweetwater freelance writer and author of Kisses to Grow On, a collection of her columns.)