IT'S ENOUGH

Since I was a child, I worried about experiencing pain and often played an avoidance game. I kept clear of contact sports, climbed only the easiest trees, and generally learned how ‘not to play’ by watching my rough and tumble brothers.  

My college training as a musical theater actress nurtured this mindset by emphasizing the fact that your body is your instrument. Exercise and a healthy diet have been important to me ever since. 

One discovers soon enough, however, that there is nothing we can do to avoid pain completely. Inevitably there is a sprain, tear or fracture that inserts physical pain into our lives. Four years ago, my fear of pain was overcome the old fashioned way - by extreme exposure. 

THE CURE

I was struck by the virus known as shingles in September 2021. Like its sister, chicken pox, it comes without warning and usually heals quickly after wreaking a manageable amount of  havoc. I wasn’t so lucky. A few days after my diagnosis, I was home alone for a long weekend when the worst pain I had ever experienced kicked in. I was up through the night, and, after exhausting every home remedy I could think of, was left half-screaming, half begging God to make the pain stop. 

On one hand, I was grateful no one was home. I didn’t want to be seen behaving this way. Despite my internal pleas to “get a hold of myself” I was unable to control my  dramatic behavior. On the other hand, this pain scared me, and I wished someone could help me, or at the very least give me a hug. It was a mixed bag of awfulness.  

My mom's remedy for childhood nightmares, to pray the rosary, came to mind.  This easily qualified as a nightmare, so I figured it couldn’t hurt to try. I stood by a window looking into the darkness, which is usually very calming for me, and continued to half scream, half pray the rosary. Sure enough, after finishing the sorrowful mysteries I was able to sleep for a few hours. 

LOOKING BACK  

In the morning, I met a pain management doctor and consequently felt some relief a few weeks later. As the pain subsided, I looked back on that first night and wondered how the rosary was able to offer a few hours of respite. Of course the rote nature of the prayer will have a calming effect, which I later learned is very helpful for nerve damage, which was the source of my pain. 

However, similar relaxation techniques were less effective. After several failed attempts, I decided to contemplate what was different about my experience praying the rosary that night.  In my memory, I noticed a shadow of someone standing patiently below me, looking up at me with sympathy. Despite the murky view, I knew it was Jesus and realized that he was with me through that horrible night. Now that the extreme pain had subsided, I could sense that Jesus was sad for me, and that he felt helpless watching me suffer. It was as if I were on the cross and Jesus was standing at its foot, just as we do for him whenever we contemplate his suffering and death. 

I was touched by this realization but not as surprised as you might think. At that moment it made sense that Jesus wanted to be there for me during such an extreme reality. He’s been there for me during less dire circumstances. I was grateful but didn’t think much more about it until I shared this story with a friend. 

Her response was a bit jarring. When I talked of Jesus feeling helpless, she interjected “He wasn’t helpless, he could have cured you right there, aren’t you angry?” I felt a bit silly. “Yeah, why didn’t he cure me? Why didn’t I ask? and most importantly, why wasn’t I angry?” My friend’s reaction was normal, why didn’t I react that way too? 

I went back to the memory a second time. I sensed it all again, the presence and helpless compassion of Jesus. I thought I would holler at Jesus and demand to know why he hadn’t cured me. But the words never came. Even the memory of Jesus’ presence–his real, abiding presence–was overwhelmingly comforting. It wrapped me in an indescribable love that, cure or not, was enough. 

WORDLESS

There are no words to describe the comfort of Jesus’ abiding presence. It reminded me of how I felt when my five year old daughter broke her arm. She was sent home from the ER wearing a sling to await surgery. Until surgery, I stayed with her, helpless to heal her, but unwilling to leave her side. I felt that Jesus’ feeling for me was greater than my maternal devotion. This description fails to capture it, but is the best description I have.

Mine was a rare case of shingles, leaving  me with permanent nerve damage and pain every day. I’m still not angry. This pain can be debilitating at times, but its intensity pales in comparison to the compassionate presence of Jesus. I am led to see that this is why he came. He literally wants to help us carry our crosses, to love us through our suffering, and to share our pain. 

THE GUARANTEE

My experience bestows an anecdotal guarantee that if you go back in your memory to a time of your own suffering, you will experience the loving presence of Jesus. He came for all of us, not just a lucky few. Before you go to that memory, ask for God’s company and be open to what happens next.

Other articles in this blog chronicle numerous ways in which God’s presence has been revealed to me. God can be found in the re-reading of your journal, the love and companionship of others, and in our senses, including that unofficial sixth sense which inexplicably assures us that God is there. How has God been revealed to you? 

In the face of real suffering, it makes no sense, but the truth is, this kind of loving companionship is more than enough for me. Once more, I believe this otherworldly presence will capture your heart as well. Be brave and ask God to help you notice this wordless, unending presence. I promise you - it’s enough!