A tale of two sons: a lesson in suffering

Hi friends! If you're still here, thank you. Life got a little crazy for awhile, and between working, children that don't sleep, holidays and general life, I haven't had time to just sit and be quiet and listen for where God was speaking. A few weeks ago, though, we had a virus rip through our whole family, and it forced me sit and wait and do nothing.

My older boy, who is just two and a half, spent the 3 days he was sick in my lap. All he wanted was a cup of juice, a blanket, and his Mama. When he would throw up, he would cry and ask for my comfort, and while I was cleaning him up, I would hug him or run my fingers through my hair, telling him, "I'm sorry you feel bad, baby. You'll feel better soon," while I offered him another Pedialyte popsicle.

My little guy, who is 10 months now, had never been sick before. Every bout of vomiting brought panic and fear, and he would stare at me, eyes screaming, "make this stop." His panic shook his tiny body and while he wanted me, he also rejected my comfort. He didn't really want ME, he wanted my intervention. He wanted me to make the thing that was hurting him suddenly stop as suddenly as it had come on. But as it is with viruses, there was nothing I could do but offer him a little bit of breastmilk, lots of hugs and a wait for it to pass.

What is it that my toddler understood that my infant didn't? 

I've written about trusting God before, many times, but the contrast of the kid's reactions to their plight struck me. They were both experiencing the same thing, and it was AWFUL (trust me, my husband and I caught it too,) but one leaned in while the other one pushed away. 

My firstborn was comforted because he allowed comfort. He rested because he took his tylenol willingly, and sips of water when he could and sat in my lap with his head on my chest and allowed me to provide what I could give him. He understood that sickness passes and that he just needed to get through it and that he wouldn't be left alone in that yucky place, as I would always be there.

My baby, never being sick before, could have thought his insides were coming out. He didn't want medicine, so he spat it back out. He didn't want milk or comfort, he wanted the suffering to end. He only rested when his little body finally gave out and even then, I made sure he was asleep on my chest because I need to teach him that even when I can't take away his sickness, I would never leave him alone in it.

Our lives, since September, have been one disappointing blow after another. We've been bypassed on job opportunities that looked like we were shoo ins for, we had a minor car problem turn into a letter saying it was being totaled and we had a dream come true opportunity to move turn into a complete and total nightmare. Each time we were left with our hands empty and our hearts broken, but instead of asking to be saved or with our fists raised in anger, we cried out to our Father for comfort and boy... did it come. It came in the form of friends sitting and crying with us, it came in managers offering mentorship and extra training to get us to where we eventually want to go, it came in not one, but two cars being presented to us in the exact price range we can afford that will leave us without a car payment and with girlfriends who greatly desired us to have a non-stressful, joyous Christmas season, gifting us a month's rent. And as a bonus, in the midst of all of these setbacks, my marriage has never been stronger.

Paul in Romans says, "Now if we are children, then we are heirs—heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory. I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." (Romans 8:17-18)

Glory. That's what was in the Father's mind when Christ was being led to a cross, knowing He could not offer Jesus the relief He asked for. He knew that the present suffering was not even worth comparing with the glory that would be revealed in the resurrection, and even though I believe the Father suffered with His Son, He knew the sickness, the trial, the disappointment was only going to last a fraction of the comfort, the trust, the triumph that was about to be displayed.

I don't know what suffering you're experiencing today, and I can't promise that it will end in this life. What I can promise you, though, is if you're like my big guy, and you lean in, comfort will come in ways you never expected. If you're more like my little guy, though, and you're still in a place where you just want things to be better, and you don't so much care about future glory, don't despair. I delight in both my boys, and it will be beautiful moving him from a place of panic in suffering to trusting who I am and what I can provide him, the same way the Father has so patiently taken me from being someone who demanded intervention to being someone who throws myself on the mercy and compassion of my loving Father. I pray the journey for you takes less time than it took me.

This wasn't while they were sick, but doesn't this just sum it up perfectly?