Hurting and Healing

I don't like getting hurt.

And I get hurt quite often. I have very thin skin – the result, I suppose, of my years of cancer treatment. And I am clumsy and impulsive and impatient.

This is not a good combination for personal safety.

Because I have seven children (and five of them are boys), I have a good amount of experience with broken things: dishes, chairs, windows, beds, large appliances. Fortunately, some of these can be repaired. But I have not yet seen one that has the power to fix itself.

But my body can do that. It can fix itself. And while I don't enjoy being injured, I do like the healing process. It is always a wonder to me to watch a cut or a bruise get smaller, and smaller, and then, disappear.

When I wrote my two missionaries a few weeks ago, I included these thoughts:

I feel blessed. Being sick and in the hospital is of course no fun, but I am glad to be home and I am glad I was able to touch some people while I was in the hospital. So many people need a little boost, a little inspiration. We should always be ready to share our light.

I also realized this: Pain hurts.

Okay, I know, this is hardly news. Everyone – even a small child – knows that pain hurts. And a lot of us sometimes put enormous effort into avoiding any kind of pain: physical, emotional, or the spiritual pain that comes from unrepented sin. Alma spoke about this kind of pain:

But I was racked with eternal torment, for my soul was harrowed up to the greatest degree and racked with all my sins. Yea, I did remember all my sins and iniquities, for which I was tormented with the pains of hell . . .

         (Book of Mormon | Alma 36:12-13)

But the way I felt when I was sick is worse than pain. I can deal with pain, because I know what and where it is. The horrible feeling that something was wrong with me rang through my entire body. If pain is comparable to sin, I would compare this feeling to perhaps apostasy, or spiritual darkness. A sin can be repented of and made right eventually. The darkness of spirit can be lifted too, with light and faith and acceptance.

I am not saying this well, and I am not saying it because I want you to feel bad about me. I am very happy now. I am telling you this because you will meet people who are experiencing spiritual misery at both these levels, and although you cannot be the healer – you don't have that power – you can be the light that shows the way to the Only True Healer, our Savior Jesus Christ.

When I wrote that, I was writing to my son and daughter who have been called, and who have accepted the call, to serve as full-time servants of the Lord. So perhaps it doesn't apply to the rest of us.

Or perhaps it does.

I, too, have been called to be a servant, a disciple, a witness of God. And I, too, have openly accepted that calling; that mission. 

I can't do everything. Some days, I feel like I can't do anything. But on those days, I am wrong. Even on dark days, I can be a light -- for my family, my neighbors, my friends, even for strangers. It might be just what someone needs to help stop the hurting and start healing.

The way of the wicked is as darkness: they know not at what they stumble. But the path of the just is as the shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day. (Proverbs 4:19, 18)

So go forward. Treat everyone you meet as if they need your smile, your help, your light. Some of them really will need it. Others can take it and pass it on. Either way, you've done something really, really good.