One satisfaction with getting older is seeing how my past pain can be redeemed. What am I redeeming it for? Well, in a recent situation, it was for a connection with my niece*.
The other day, I eagerly called my niece, thinking the conversation would be filled with details that only an excited (albeit slightly dramatic) 8 year old can give; however, much to my surprise, most of the conversation centered on the unfortunate splinter wedged in her finger; it had not worked its way out of the skin yet, and she was anticipating what would happen next. I think we analyzed that splinter and discussed it more than any other topic of conversation.
I loved it.
I spent some of my formative years in a home with beautiful wood floors. Getting a splinter was not unusual for me. Sometimes with much determination, bravery, and a few tears, I could pull it out; other times, I had to involve surgery equipment (a flash light and a needle) with my Dad as the surgeon.
So, when my niece worriedly shared with me about the splinter, I knew exactly how she was feeling. I remember the throb of the sore skin, maneuvering around with a swollen toe, and the fear that my foot would become infected and need to be removed (I was an absolute hypochondriac).
Even though a splinter is a relatively mild bump in the road of life, the pain I had experienced lead to a better connection with my niece. Of course, many past hurts have yet to be redeemed, but I am reminded that like the splinter, there is still hope for other, more intense pain I’ve experienced; because of this, I’m more enthusiastic about life, and able to face pain with a little more strength and sense of purpose.
*Because I want to keep this blog post on the lighter side, I’m going to talk about a physical pain that isn’t extreme.
Creator of Love, Auntie.