by Jewel Leann Williams
Quick story:
This week my sweet eleven-year-old son managed to roll out of his top bunk in his sleep, and landed on the six-inch-tall pile of dirty clothes on the floor but tweaked his neck. He spent the whole week miserable. I took him to Urgent Care just to make sure it wasn't anything more than a "tweak" and thankfully, that was affirmed by the doctor. She gave us some really awesome gel to use and taught him some great stretches. She told us that, even though it really hurts to do so, the best way to permanently relieve the pain is by gently stretching the area, and instead of holding everything as still as possible, to move it as much as possible. We left the office and I continued for the next few days to remind my son to move his head and neck, to do stretches, etc.
Two days later, after a night wherein the adorable four-year-old princess invaded our bed, I found myself with an inexplicable but excruciating pain in my upper back--one of those knots underneath the shoulder blade that is about impossible to get to. I commandeered some of the really awesome gel, and the husband gave me as much of a massage in that area as possible. I resigned myself to not doing the things I had planned, because how was I going to scrub two showers when I couldn't lift my arm?
The doctor's words came back to me: no matter how much it hurts, the best thing for you to do at this point is to move it. So, I did. At first I was glad that no one was in the room with me, because I sworea little more than a little and was making this whining noise that was quite unbecoming. Anyway, after a while, I did find that the pain lessened enough for me to start my chores (scrubbing the kids' shower was imperative, it's their job but it had been done poorly or not at all for long enough that it... well, you get the picture). After about an hour of scrubbing (I'm not exaggerating, and I was only half done--it was bad) I realized that it didn't hurt at all anymore. Moving really, really helped!
My point in this isn't to wallow in the pity of how terrible my kids' shower was (it was really, really bad. I soaked it in cleaner, scrubbed it, and then soaked and scrubbed it again). It's not even to whine about the pain or the fact that when my little girl sneaks into bed with us, I always feel like I was run over by a train the next day. While I was contemplating the fact that I would have not had the "move it and it will help" advice fresh on my mind had I not just been dealing with muscle pain for my boy, the Spirit whispered to me that this is an analogy for life in general.
We have trials, and they teach us things. They make us stronger. They make us more empathetic when other people go through the same things. They also give us knowledge that we can share with others who may find themselves in similar circumstances. In short, our trials are a gold mine if we can look beyond the pain and see them as learning--and teaching--experiences.
After all, the Savior himself suffered in Gethsemane to personally know how to succor us. In Alma 7, it explains that Jesus took upon himself the pains and afflictions of his people, that is, all of us, so that he would know according to the flesh how to succor his people. He could have known, in His head, by the Spirit, how to provide comfort. But there is something to be said for feeling the same pains--he wanted to physically know--according to the flesh--how our infirmities and trials make us feel so that he could truly know how to provide comfort and assistance to us. What love our Savior has for us!
This isn't a new way of looking at trials for me; but it is a good reminder that I needed this week.
In closing, I'd invite you to read Alma 7 for one of the most beautiful descriptions of our Savior's mission and Atonement. And remember, our trials are there for a reason--they are our lessons in this school of life.
Quick story:
This week my sweet eleven-year-old son managed to roll out of his top bunk in his sleep, and landed on the six-inch-tall pile of dirty clothes on the floor but tweaked his neck. He spent the whole week miserable. I took him to Urgent Care just to make sure it wasn't anything more than a "tweak" and thankfully, that was affirmed by the doctor. She gave us some really awesome gel to use and taught him some great stretches. She told us that, even though it really hurts to do so, the best way to permanently relieve the pain is by gently stretching the area, and instead of holding everything as still as possible, to move it as much as possible. We left the office and I continued for the next few days to remind my son to move his head and neck, to do stretches, etc.
Two days later, after a night wherein the adorable four-year-old princess invaded our bed, I found myself with an inexplicable but excruciating pain in my upper back--one of those knots underneath the shoulder blade that is about impossible to get to. I commandeered some of the really awesome gel, and the husband gave me as much of a massage in that area as possible. I resigned myself to not doing the things I had planned, because how was I going to scrub two showers when I couldn't lift my arm?
The doctor's words came back to me: no matter how much it hurts, the best thing for you to do at this point is to move it. So, I did. At first I was glad that no one was in the room with me, because I swore
My point in this isn't to wallow in the pity of how terrible my kids' shower was (it was really, really bad. I soaked it in cleaner, scrubbed it, and then soaked and scrubbed it again). It's not even to whine about the pain or the fact that when my little girl sneaks into bed with us, I always feel like I was run over by a train the next day. While I was contemplating the fact that I would have not had the "move it and it will help" advice fresh on my mind had I not just been dealing with muscle pain for my boy, the Spirit whispered to me that this is an analogy for life in general.
We have trials, and they teach us things. They make us stronger. They make us more empathetic when other people go through the same things. They also give us knowledge that we can share with others who may find themselves in similar circumstances. In short, our trials are a gold mine if we can look beyond the pain and see them as learning--and teaching--experiences.
After all, the Savior himself suffered in Gethsemane to personally know how to succor us. In Alma 7, it explains that Jesus took upon himself the pains and afflictions of his people, that is, all of us, so that he would know according to the flesh how to succor his people. He could have known, in His head, by the Spirit, how to provide comfort. But there is something to be said for feeling the same pains--he wanted to physically know--according to the flesh--how our infirmities and trials make us feel so that he could truly know how to provide comfort and assistance to us. What love our Savior has for us!
This isn't a new way of looking at trials for me; but it is a good reminder that I needed this week.
In closing, I'd invite you to read Alma 7 for one of the most beautiful descriptions of our Savior's mission and Atonement. And remember, our trials are there for a reason--they are our lessons in this school of life.
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