HT: Dave Furman
Many people spend a lot of time and energy taking care of others in pain. There’s a very real temptation to brush off any feelings of discouragement, because, after all, they aren’t the ones suffering. Or are they?
Even though my pain isn’t the most apparent (I wear no casts or braces), it’s relatively easy to spot. Due to a nerve disease I can’t use my arms normally, and so I have a loss of physical capabilities. I have to ask for plasticware at restaurants when their forks are too heavy for me to use. I’m reminded every day that I’m not strong enough to pick up my children. I ask my seven-year-old daughter, Norah, to untie my shoes after I come back from jogging.
Though my loss is easy to see, what about the loss my family has experienced? It’s often overlooked, but they've lost much through this trial as well. Though they’ve gained joy in serving others (a joy not to be minimized), they’ve also lost a husband and father able to physically serve them. I can’t drive the family car, take out the trash, throw a baseball, hold a baby, open the door, or pick up a wet towel from the bathroom floor. Not only does my family not have physical help from me, but they spend additional time helping me.
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