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(Writer’s note, this was written on Monday, 20 September, before Murphy is to be born)  Last night, I got home from session, and it was a gorgeous night.  The weather was perfect, lower 70’s, no humidity.  The very pregnant version of Melissa, Kayla and I went out to our back porch, and ate dinner there.  As we finished, it was one of those nights that was perfect for sitting at the table, and enjoying each other’s company.  So we remained outside.  Kayla got a ball and began to bounce it up and down the patio.  It was fantastic.  Until we were just about to go inside.  I called Kayla, she ran toward us, and got a splinter in her big toe.  No kidding, it was no smaller than ¾ an inch.  While that may not sound big, it is for a splinter,

and to us it felt like it was 34 inches.  Melissa ran to grab the tweezers, and I held Kayla and told her it would be okay.  She kept saying, “It hurts Daddy, it hurts.”  That was pretty painful, but it was going to get much worse.                                                                                                                                                                                                           It was not only long, but the splinter was deep.  And we couldn’t grab it with the tweezers.  Because she’s 3, she doesn’t understand to stay still if it hurts.  So one of us is on hold down duty, and the other on poke and prod and pull duty.  All along, she is screaming things like this, “Stop it Daddy.  You are hurting me.”  And this, “Why are you hurting me Daddy / Mommy?” (Depending on whose turn it was to poke and prod and pull.

  Finally after about 30 minutes of this, when we are at our wits ends and everyone in the room has tears in their eyes, we were able to get it out with a safety pin.  I’m not sure who it was worse on, but I do know this; it wasn’t easy for any of us.  About 3 or 4 minutes after we’ve got it out and while we are just finished cleaning it up, and putting Neosporin and a Boo Boo Bandaid on it, she said this to me with tears stains still visible on her cheeks.  “Thank you for getting it out Daddy.  Thank you for hurting me.”

When I return to the pulpit on the 24^th of October, I intend to preach on the vulnerability of God.  If God is our parent, and this we do believe, and parents feel hurt when their children are hurt, which we do, then certainly God feels hurt when we hurt.  Maybe sometimes we are hurt for our own good.  And of course that hurts God even worse.  I think it is a sign of a caring God who is vulnerable to what happens to us.  Parents, the good ones, manage to not live their children’s lives for them.  Sometimes you have to let your children make bad decisions right in front of your face so that they learn.  In some ways, I believe it is a sign of a loving God that we are allowed to make bad decisions that hurt us and others.  We are allowed to sin because God loves us.  Not that we should go out and sin, saying, “See how much God loves me.”  But when

we hurt, we know these two things.  1) God hurts when we hurt, and 2) God loves us enough to let us live our own lives.

It can’t be easy.  There are times when I think the easier thing to do would be to just do it for our daughter.  But, deep down I know that isn’t as good.  And she has learned.  We don’t go out on the porch anymore without flip flops.  She won’t even let us go out there barefoot.

As I am always,

Yours in Christ,

 

 

Matt

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