Growing Pains

When we were little, I remember this season when my sister would get the worst sort of growing pains I’d ever seen or heard of.

Back then, I genuinely thought she was just lying.

But back then, we really didn’t get along all that well. She’s my best friend now– but that’s all besides the point.

Growing pains suck.

Do we ever truly grow out of them? Or do they just lurk in the shadows then suddenly manifest in different ways as we age and do the things that we love?

When you’re younger, you’re told that the pains won’t be permanent;

“Just hold tight– it’ll pass!”

- Your mother after she hands you ibuprofen and an ice pack

When you’re older, the response to any sort of pain is a bit different. Everyone is hurting; the show must go on. Your responsibilities don’t stop when the hurt shows up. Unless your legs are broken, and even then, you still gotta get to work.

With age, I’ve definitely accumulated my fair share of chronic pain. With the amount that I type and the way that I love Bible journaling (and regular journaling), my wrists feel like they belong to someone over double my age. Factor in all of the barn work and the fact that I’m extremely hypermobile– I have the perfect recipe for awful joint pain and deteriorating wrists.

It’s kind of poetic how the act of sharing joy, love, lessons, and all of my deepest truths through writing causes me such immense physical pain. There’s something to be said about how the very means I use to put all of my most sincere pains on paper are now becoming my greatest abuser.

Anyways, this is just one of my manifestations. I feel like I finally got into a good groove for this blog. I started feeling super confident and getting excited about what I’d write that week. Now, as it's developed, I find myself less and less motivated; I know that writing a piece means physical consequences. Even just sitting in my chair for longer than an hour leaves all of my joints feeling like they’re on fire.

I’m not trying to sit here and just complain to all three of you– but I wanted to be forthright about what brought on these realizations.

This whole situation keeps leading me back to that memory of my sister. I didn’t believe that her pain was that bad back then, and I’m sure it’s easy to write off mine now. But the way that it’s managed to thwart my progress when I started gaining momentum is what bothers me the most.

I’ve always had odd joint issues– I used to be quite the runner until my knees decided I couldn’t take the beating anymore a year or two ago.

But this– my hands– this is a whole new beast.

A beast that has been waiting in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike. It pounced with perfect precision.

I know I might sound melodramatic, but it can be extremely discouraging when something like this happens right when you feel like you're entering your prime in terms of your passion.

Obviously, my issue is fixable (to a degree). I’m working on appointments to seek solutions and healing. But this isn’t just about my microscopic experience. If you look closely enough, we see this kind of thing all the time; a man is in the middle of his best football season yet– then tears his ACL. None of us facing these setbacks are the first, and we won’t be the last.

But it doesn’t make the abrasions any less painful.

Now, I can’t help but to look at this from a Biblical perspective. This wouldn’t be TGL if I didn’t.

To look at this in a bare-bones manner, it all comes back to friction.

Physical, mental, spiritual.

We think that things are going great, until things start rubbing us the wrong way, then the true resistance sets in.

We think there’s nothing wrong with our joints, because it’s not like we can see inside them, but then suddenly the pain starts creeping in.

We don’t know or see anything, but God does.

Let me clarify: I don’t think that God specifically sat down and was like:

“Yeah, let's give the writer some crippling pain in her hands right when she needs to write. That’ll do!”

But I do think God uses unanticipated friction in ways we don't expect. 

It can knock us off guard, but the healing is all in how we get back up.

I’ll be the first to admit that I didn’t get up well.

I was actually a bit personally offended and upset by it all. 

I don’t blame God– but I’m just generally irritated by the whole situation and it’s bled into my work, my headspace, and my mood. I had no motivation to do anything because I was tired of the things I love hurting me. I felt distant from Him, but only because I used my pain as an excuse to pull away instead of just taking it to Him.

It’s moments like this where I should have practiced what I preach:

“Lean on Him in times of trouble– siphon from His unending well of strength.”

I’ve been quoted to say this in differing variations to a few of my friends, yet when it was time for me to go to bat I struck out in such a magnificently ironic manner.

Yet, there is still hope for me, and others like me.

Yet, God will still let us try again tomorrow.

There is no growing pain that God can’t turn around– that He can’t heal if He chooses.

I don’t know exactly what His plan for my certain situation is yet, but I do know one thing:

My shortcomings magnify His glory, and that will have to be enough.

“So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”

2 Corinthians 12:7–10 (ESV)

Until next week,

— E. Byers, author of The Grassy Laine