When we first brought my mother-in-law, Colleen, home from the nursing home several years ago, the muscles in her legs and left arm were contracted due to her being bedridden and not having her arms and legs stretched. We had not thought to ask if that was being done, both because we didn't know it needed to be, plus we assumed the staff was doing what they were supposed to.
Colleen's arm was contracted to the point that it was usually folded at the elbow, with her hand up by her chin. One problem, besides discomfort, of having her arm folded against itself all the time was the danger of moisture creating a prime dwelling spot for bacteria to grow, causing skin problems and possible infections. It was hard to clean the area as well. She could open her arm, if we could get across to her that's what we wanted. But normally, the atrophied muscle kept her arm folded.
On top of that, Collen developed Dupuytren's contracture in one hand where two fingers are bent in toward the palm and can't straighten.
An occupational therapist was sent to our home to work with Colleen's arm and hand. As you can imagine, trying to work contracted muscles was painful, no matter how gentle the therapist was.
Colleen was not a very talkative person except among family or close friends. But when the therapist came, Colleen would start chattering, telling him about her family or anything else she could think of, trying to delay the inevitable. As he worked, Colleen would say he was hurting her, and she'd get more agitated the longer he went on. The therapist, aide, and I tried to encourage her to relax and work with him, but in her mental state at that time, she couldn't take in the idea that the momentary discomfort would eventually pay off and her arm would feel better.
Her discomfort increased to the point that she'd tense even when the therapist entered her room, making progress even harder. Therapy eventually stopped.*
Sometimes our efforts to avoid getting hurt create more pain. I took a tumbling class for one college P. E. course. The teacher advised that if we ever found ourselves falling, we should roll with it. She said most injuries from falls occur as we try to stop ourselves from falling. That happened to a guy I knew--he was playing soccer, slipped, threw out his arms to catch himself, and broke his wrist.
When God starts working with our tight places, we recoil from the pain. We want to pull away. We want it all to stop.
When we anticipate bad things that could happen, we tense with fear and dread.
When we face difficult situations with tension, we miss the good that our situation is accomplishing and make the experience all the more difficult.
Our pastor recently said something like worry is fear that God won't get things right. I had to think about that. I was convicted of its truth.
We know from His Word that He has a purpose in all He allows, even suffering. We know He has promised to be with us and give us grace to help in every situation.
But even knowing those truths, knowing He always does what is right, sometimes the problem is we're afraid we're not going to like what He allows. As C. S. Lewis said, "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us, we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be."
Look at Job, after all. Who among us would want to go through all he did? Or Joni Eareckson Tada, who has spent more than fifty years in a wheelchair due to a diving accident and then dealt with cancer and chronic pain on top of that. Or Elisabeth Elliot, whose first husband was murdered and whose second husband lost a horrific battle with cancer.
We can scare ourselves to death with "what ifs." If what we fear comes true, then we've doubled our angst by worrying about it ahead of time plus dealing with it when it happens. And if the worst never happens, then we've wasted all that time and energy worrying about it.
I've known some occupational therapists who are warm and kind. I've known others who are not unkind, but their manner is matter-of-fact and down-to-business. But I think any of them would tell us they don't torture people because they enjoy it. Rather, they know the temporary pain of stretching and working reluctant muscles will lead to greater usefulness and movement and will prevent further deterioration or, in some cases, infections.
God is not just a doctor putting us through the paces for our health. He's a kind and loving Father. He's not capricious. He doesn't act on a whim. Everything He allows is for a purpose. He understands our lamentations. He's promised to be with us and give us grace every step of the way.
Amy Carmichael wrote a poem about not finding peace in forgetting, endeavor, aloofness, and even submission, but in acceptance. The last stanza goes:
He said, 'I will accept the breaking sorrow
Which God tomorrow
Will to His son explain.'
Then did the turmoil deep within me cease.
Not vain the word, not vain;
For in acceptance lieth peace.
Instead of tensing at what God might do and allow in my life, I need to trust my good and loving Father and seek His grace all along the way.
Be assured that the testing of your faith [through experience] produces endurance [leading to spiritual maturity, and inner peace]. And let endurance have its perfect result and do a thorough work, so that you may be perfect and completely developed [in your faith], lacking in nothing.
James 1:3-4, Amplified Bible
Revised from the archives
(I often link up with some of these bloggers.)
- For those who might wonder, we dealt with Colleen's bent arm by cutting the foot portion off an old tube sock and sliding it up to cover the middle part of her arm to help keep from chafing or getting too moist. Thanks be too God, she never got a skin infection there the five years she lived with us.
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