When Pain is Not The Problem

One night last week just before bedtime, my ten-year-old called me over. “Mom, I have a toothache, and my gum hurts a lot too.”

I did what any mom would do and grabbed a flashlight. Shining the bright LED into his mouth, I saw a red, swollen gum where he pointed to the source of the pain. “Ouch, dude. That looks like it hurts. How long has that been going on?” I asked.

“Since Saturday.” He responded.

I called my husband over, and we both made the decision that we should probably make a trip to the dentist in the morning. It could be a cavity or even headed toward an abscess. Anxiety rose in my heart as I thought about how this might affect our next few days – the time involved, the cost, and managing his pain. We gave him some ibuprofen and ushered him to bed.

I didn’t sleep well that night, and the next morning, I felt my nerves on edge until we called the dentist’s office and settled on a 9:00 appointment. We quickly got the kids ready and gathered the school books – can’t let an appointment turn the school day on its head! And we headed out the door.

My mind raced as I thought through all the possibilities as the road moved under our tires. Would they do something today? Would we have to schedule another appointment later this week or even several appointments? How would he handle the procedure(s)? And most of all, I felt like some sort of failure for not teaching him to brush his teeth better. Cue “bad mom syndrome.”

I sat in the waiting room with the younger boys while my husband went back with the oldest. I bounced my knees with nervous energy. What were they finding? What was taking so long? In reality, they were probably not gone more than about twenty minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

When they emerged, my son made a bee-line for the video games, and my husband walked over. He shrugged his shoulders. “Everything is good.” He stated calmly. I’m sure my mouth dropped. “His teeth are all intact, no decay, no infection. It’s just his adult teeth trying to push the baby molars out. The dentist said to encourage him to wiggle them more to get the little ones out of the way.”

I blinked a few times as the news settled in. My son was growing up. He was in pain because he is growing into the man God wants him to be. Wiggle the tooth. The new one will come in. Everything is okay. The pain is not a problem.

We got back in the car, and I drove in silence as I processed this rather good news. And it revealed something to me – Pain is not always a problem. It does not always signify a problem. Sometimes it signifies growth. In some ways, I felt like an idiot for not thinking through that possibility in the midst of all my worrying. But in other ways, I wonder if God allowed this small speed bump to teach me a deeper lesson.

We are trained to look at pain as a problem. We are raised with the ideas that pain is your body’s way of telling you something is wrong. The sore throat tells you you’re sick. The headache states that you’re tired, stressed, or in need of coffee. The burning lungs might signify asthma, and the aching heart can whisper of loss. We pull our hands away from heat so we don’t get burned. We add layers if we are tingly cold. We step away from relationships that seem too hurtful.

On the other hand, the aching gums tell us we are growing up and getting new teeth (yup, I know this now). The burning muscles tell us new fibers are being added and we are getting stronger. And the rhythmic tightening of the womb tells us we are about to birth new life. Pain doesn’t always mean something is wrong. Sometimes, pain tells us that something is very much right!

The problem comes when we look at all pain from the same angle without taking time to understand its source or its message. We feel a sensation that sends a signal to our brain – “pain” is the message that is communicated from that source. But the nerve impulse doesn’t differentiate between bad pain and good pain. It’s just all sensed as “pain”.

The nervous system is incredible in its ability to warn us of a problem. God created it this way, and it is very good. I’m amazed at how quickly we will remove our finger from the poke of the needle before we even consciously realize that we were pricked. Pain is in place to protect us from further injury.

But pain is also present in growth – as in the case of my son’s tooth. His gums were being “injured” to some degree. His nerves were sending a message to his brain which communicated pain. The process of the baby teeth being replaced by the adult teeth can be painful as the mouth makes room for the larger molars. But that pain signifies growth, not a problem. So my getting worked up over a potential problem actually served to create much more stress than was ever necessary. There wasn't a problem after all!

What if, when we sensed pain, we took an honest look at it? What if, rather than working ourselves into a frenzy, we slowed down and considered all the options? What if we looked at pain as a gift rather than a problem? What if we saw it as potential for growth rather than an inhibitor to our lives? What if we pushed into it rather than avoiding it?

The adult tooth will take longer to come in if my son does nothing. The dentist said to wiggle the baby one, to work on getting it out of the way. If my son tries to ignore the pain and live his life, the pain will last longer. But if he wiggles that tooth, the new one can break through and he will grow one step closer to being a man.

What do you need to wiggle today rather than worrying about or ignoring? It’s natural to want to avoid what hurts us, but what if engaging is what it takes to see a friendship blossom? It’s easy to worry when we don’t understand cause, but what if taking time to understand brought clarity? It’s tempting to pretend everything is okay, but what if getting honest with ourselves is how healing comes?

We have a choice in how we handle our pain. We can worry about it. We can try to avoid it. Or we can wiggle it and see what potential lies under the surface.

It might just be that a new tooth is ready to emerge! 

The Role I Never Asked For

“Be here now” is a phrase that hangs on my living room wall. It’s also a common phrase to hear tossed around my home as well as that of my extended family. The concept is simple. The practice, not so much. Behind this phrase lies the idea of learning to be present, to be engaged, to not be worried and concerned about many things. Yes, I tend to have a Martha heart, so the goal of being present is one I constantly strive toward.

Each year, I prayerfully choose a word to make my aim for that year. 2020’s word happens to be “Present.” I anticipated simplifying, letting some things go, and taking on less responsibility. What I didn’t expect was the precursor battle over where I would need to be present.

Leading up to the shift in decades, I thought I knew where I would be when the twenty-teens turned the corner. I would be in a smaller house with less commitments, I would be homeschooling my boys, working part-time, and basically choosing where to invest my extra time. But my journey took an unexpected turn when in early November, my husband experienced a crisis of anxiety, panic, and insomnia that we later learned was connected to complex PTSD.

My semi-predictable world was turned upside down. Our home was under contract to be sold and we were negotiating projects to be completed before closing. I was managing guests and maintenance at our AirBnB property a town away. I was homeschooling our sons. And now, in the midst of my husbands near daily struggle, I found myself alone in managing much of life and thrust into a new role that I never asked for.

Mental illness is something that happened to other people, not us! Really, if anyone lost it, it should have been me. My husband was a rock! Now, I couldn’t be strong enough to make him feel safe. I found myself having to learn to listen to deep, dark struggles and scary thoughts – honestly, they scared me too, but he needed me to be his safe place. I couldn’t allow myself to struggle. My routine driven nature that thrived on set expectations was stretched in extreme flexibility as I ebbed and flowed with my husband’s needs. The questions were endless. And I felt alone, so alone.

Recently, I was challenged to take an honest look at where I am in life right now – to answer questions objectively, to accept with grace the place God has allowed (and privileged) me to be in, then to fully immerse myself fully present in the where that I happen to be.

I was posed with questions to ponder. Question like: Has something recently changed in your life? Does a member of your family require more from you in this season? Is a loved one struggling with anxiety, panic, or a sickness? I felt like this woman had a secret portal in looking at my past few months. I felt struck by the questions, and as I considered the answers, I saw how I had been denying reality all along.

Each time the thought of my husband struggling with a mental illness would arise, I would quickly push it to the side. Anytime I was overwhelmed by my new-found responsibilities, I would look to the future convincing myself it would not always be this way. I found ways to escape my present reality by keeping myself busy, by investing in my sons, by eating ice cream. I wasn’t present. I was fighting the role I had been given with everything I was. I didn’t want to be where I was. I wanted things to go back to normal.

Care-giving is excruciating when you expect to be the one cared for. I found myself here as my husband's and my roles shifted for a season. I had to be strong because he was weak. I had to face my deepest fears head on: being alone and not feeling protected. I felt responsible for so much from the sale of our home and our upcoming move, to the stability of our sons, and the health of my husband. I didn’t like it one bit. I despised where I was. I hurt so much.

It’s 2020 now, and I long to be present. But I realize that in order to be here now. I need to understand where I am. And in order to understand where I am, I must admit and accept where I have been. As I look back over the past several months, I see that I was given a critical role at a critical time. It was a role that only I could fill. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t like it. But the reality is that God allowed it. Not only did he allow me to walk this path, but he equipped me with everything I needed for each step of the journey. His grace and his power was more than sufficient. And He was with me each step of the way.

My change in roles was a challenge I never expected. It caught me off guard. I felt displaced and wounded. And as I’ve realized that it is okay to admit that, I’ve started to open my heart and my hands. I’m learning to hold my emotions gently, to be honest with myself and God about what was hard and why and allow him to bring healing and hope there. Admitting where I was and accepting that role, I’m opening myself to be where I am now.

The present phase of our journey is not as intense as it was. In many ways, we’ve found healing and we are moving toward healthy balance in our roles once again. Where I am right now is in a season of transition, and I must be willing to accept my where now in order to fully engage in the present.

Your role may not be like mine. Maybe singleness is the role you never asked for – barrenness, being widowed or divorced. Maybe it’s a diagnosis that started the role of a patient. Maybe your role is caregiver for a parent, a spouse, a child, or even a grandchild. Maybe it’s a financial season of hardship, the necessity of an extra job to provide or cutting corners of your budget. Maybe you are enduring a strained relationship and your role is to be the one to reconcile. Or maybe your loved one has deployed and your are left to manage the home front and feel so alone.

A change in roles can be excruciating, challenging, disheartening, discouraging. And that’s okay to admit. Hold your emotions gently. Honor the way the role is making you feel and know that you can pour out your heart to Jesus when your role seems too much to bear. Then be there. Be all there. Be brave, my friend, the Lord your God is with you wherever you go!

"Now may the God of peace, who through the blood of the eternal covenant brought back from the dead our Lord Jesus, that great Shepherd of the sheep, equip you with every good thing to do His will. And may He accomplish in us what is pleasing in His sight through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory for ever and ever. Amen" (Hebrews 13:20-21).