Counting Your Troubles
Focusing on Pain
He lay dying.
His body was riddled with cancer; the end was in sight. Family surrounded him, tending to his every need. Hospice nurses came and went, allowing Grandpa to die at home. Love permeated his final weeks.
“My toe hurts.”
It was an unusual complaint. With cancer spread through much of his body and his organs shutting down, why would his toe be the focal point of pain?
His grandson was assigned the task of monitoring the toe pain. With a pencil and paper in hand, he began to chart the toe-pain times.
9:02
9:05
9:07
Lovingly, his grandson watched his weak and withered grandpa struggle. Grandpa had always been so strong, a pillar of faith, a man committed to Jesus. Now they sat together, focused on the pain.
9:08
9:11
And I am guilty of the same thing.
Before I open my eyes in the morning, I am reminded of the miseries that await me when I get out of bed. Physical ailments prevent me from living my life the way I want. Failed relationships plague my thoughts as my brain continuously cycles through healing scenarios. Three friends have died in the past month, with two more clinging to life. Even more loved ones are clinging to eternal death as they continue to deny Jesus as their Lord and Savior. Count them with me-
Trouble #1
Trouble #2
Trouble #3…
I remember when Aunt Gladys was still alive. I would round up my young kiddos and try to visit her once a week. We would knock and wait for her gravelly, “Come in!” Sitting in the recliner, her slim figure dwarfed by its beige leather width, she individually welcomed each child.
“Tell me what you have been doing this week. Baseball? And what position are you playing? And how is your team doing? You keep at it! You’re getting so big and strong!”
Her meticulously set silver hair synced perfectly with her stylish suits and sweaters. As she sent the children off to find the A&W root beer and vanilla ice cream purchased specially for them, I would inquire about her.
“I’m doing well, Tessa. I have no complaints.”
No complaints? Allow me, for a moment, to complain for then-97-year-old Gladys.
Gladys was the oldest of six children, and the only one still alive.
Gladys and Howard desired children, but were infertile.
Howard died twenty years earlier, leaving Gladys alone. No parents. No siblings. No children. She was one of two left from the 1938 high school graduating class. She and her classmate would meet at a local cafe for lunch for their annual class reunion. The rest of her friends from that generation had all died.
Gladys was legally blind, rendering her without her favorite pastime - reading.
All of these past and current struggles, but no complaints. She was not a glass-half-empty person, nor was she a glass-half-full person. Gladys always had a full glass. Spending time with her filled my cup because hers was always overflowing.
My friend’s grandson continued to record the pain-in-the-toe times for almost 90 minutes. I can almost feel the frantic misery, diligently focusing on the pain, blocking out everything else to think only of his toe. In frustration and grief, his daughter finally flipped the paper over.
“Blessings. Count your blessings. Write down every blessing Grandpa can think of!”
This piece of paper with toe-pain times on one side and blessings on the other side was shared at his funeral. He was never one to focus on the pain, and the overflowing church was encouraged to do likewise.
I get out of bed, thinking of my friend. He left this earth counting his blessings and is even more thankful now, as he is with Jesus. I think of Gladys and her cup that filled me when she was here on this earth. How would she mentally approach trials?
Counting blessings instead of troubles.
It’s my choice.
It’s going to be a good day.
“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things.” (Phillipians 4:8)