Arms of Comfort

I absolutely love being an aunt. There is nothing greater than having twelve nieces and nephews. But this week I had to do the worse aunt duty possible. No, it wasn't changing dirty diapers; it was going to the shot lady, as I not-so affectionately call her.

This week Christina and Luke had to go for their flu shots. Since my grad school is in the area, I volunteered to go with them, thinking it would be another time of bonding with the kids.

My nephew was up first, and as the needle was injected into his leg, he calmly and rather unconvincingly said, "Ow. Ow." No tears, no shouts, no problem! Even though his reaction was undramatic, my niece began crying loudly and clinging to my neck, knowing she was next. I held Christina while Luke got his shot, then her mom went to pry her away from my arms. Her screams grew louder. "I WILL NOT LET YOU TAKE ME!" My heart began to break as I was trying to push her away from my arms while she clung on with all her might. She refused to let her mom take her, and she chose me to hold her for the upcoming ordeal.

Now I must say at this point that my worse phobia in life is needles. I'd rather be confined to an enclosed space, touch a snake, conquer a high cliff, eat octopus, whatever. Just keep the needles away. So when Christina boldly proclaimed to the nurse through her screams, "I AM GOING TO KICK YOU!!", I was feeling her pain. The nurse stated matter-of-factly, "Mam, I want you to hold the little girls' legs down. Cross your legs over hers so she cannot move."

At this point, my niece began to shake uncontrollably. She and I have an extremely close relationship, and I was feeling like I was betraying her as I numbly obeyed the nurse's command and held her little body down so she could not move. My niece asked me why through her sobs. All I could do was try to explain the concept that this injection would prevent her from future illness, but a four-year-old cannot rationalize like an adult. She didn't understand, but she knew that my love for her was too great to allow anything to hurt her permanently. She trusted me in spite of that awful moment. I had all I could do not to cry along with her as I held her shaking body in my arms and the needle was thrust into her leg.

As I reflect upon that experience, I am reminded of my relationship with Christ. Trials come my way that I cannot make sense of in light of my limited understanding. I cry out to God, "Why?", but any response I receive seems inadequate. I can fight all I want, but ultimately I must fall back into His arms, trust, and surrender. I don't understand, but He does. He knows that these trials will refine me until I reflect His beauty. And in the painful and slow process, He cries with me as He holds me in His arms.

Have you felt those arms of comfort in the midst of your trial? Have you watched the tears fall from His face as He walks with you in the fire? Rest assured, your Master knows. And His love for you extends beyond comprehension.