Suffering

I don’t understand suffering. I don’t understand why life has to hurt so much...and why we make it hurt even more sometimes. Of course, I could spout out a pseudo-intelligent-sounding theological explanation concerning the consequences of The Fall, but that provides little heart comfort. There are some things that simply will remain clouded in mystery until we have new eyes.

I’ve read Lewis’s The Problem of Pain and countless other books on related topics. I’ve taken philosophy courses at Emory, been in a myriad of Bible studies over the years, and am currently enrolled in a class on Healing Prayer. Still, the questions remain. But I have learned not to allow myself to start down the pathway of “Whys?” Although I have an amazing lack of self-discipline in most mental arenas, this has not been difficult. I will know ‘why’ later, if it even matters then. I still remember an Emily Dickinson poem that pretty much sums it up:

I shall know why when time is over
and I have ceased to wonder why
Christ will explain each separate sorrow
in His fair schoolroom in the sky
He will tell me what Peter promised
and I, for wonder at His woe,
I will forget this drop of anguish
that scalds me now
that scalds me now

There is no pain which burns more scaldingly, scarringly hot than that of a parent helpless to alleviate his child’s suffering. I’ve seen many sane people do insane things in the attempt... myself not excluded. In my early mothering days, I was haunted by self-doubt. In a particularly harrowing train of thought, I would imagine my child in imminent danger and wonder if I would be able to override the human instinct of self-preservation in order to save her. Would I be able to throw myself in front of the speeding train if she were playing on the tracks? Would I amputate my legs for her? Thankfully, I was never put to the test when my three were small. Later, though, there came a time when I was deeply troubled about one of them. In wrestling with her, myself, and God, I came to realize very clearly that I absolutely would jump off a cliff for her, if need be. It gave me great peace to realize finally that there would be no struggle in the sacrifice. The sacred instinct of protective parental love would easily circumvent the merely human one of self-protection.

Now, there is little I can do as I watch a most precious child suffer. Before every prick, pull, probe, or push, the nurse says, “I’m sorry, I know this really hurts,” but Katherine makes no protest. She just lies there like a little lamb and squeezes my hand. A couple of times yesterday she squeezed so hard that I was the one yelling “OUCH!” as the catheter was pulled out of her vein, the scraping was done on her eye. But as bad as the physical pain must be, it is almost unbearable to imagine what’s going on in her mind right now. We know that she is there mentally. Sometimes a tear slides down her cheek for no apparent reason. Is she scared? Lonely? Despairing? Missing James? She must be hurting in ways I can’t even imagine. The day before yesterday was pure torture, trying to get an IV line in before a CT scan. One vein burst after the next just as the IV was inserted. At one point we were alone in the room, and I lay my head down on her chest. I was kissing her hand and telling her how proud I was of her. I looked her in the eye and told her how much I wished it could be me instead of her. I said, “You know I’d do anything for you.” She squeezed my hand before her eyelid fluttered and closed over an emerging tear. I continued lying on her chest for a minute and segued into a state of unarticulated thought/prayer. A knowledge deeper than words seeped in: Your love for Katherine is a shadowing of my love for you. But I was able to take your place.

At that moment I became aware of the music in the room. Jay has set up an Ipod with Katherine’s ‘birthing playlist’ on it. It plays pretty much continuously, but at a very low volume. A haunting melody wound its way from my ears down to my heart. These are the lyrics it took along with it:

"I'd do anything for you
I'd do anything for you

I did everything for you
I did everything for you..."*


I’m not making this up.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CVZcAzXWciQ

(*Sufjan Stevens, from “For the Widows in Paradise”)