Pain Could be a Blessing in Disguise

 It was one of those October afternoons in Madurai, South India in 1970’s when the sun was burning bright and wind was nowhere to be seen to blow on the Neem branches to make them sway and wave. Meanwhile, inside the building which was marked “Chemistry Lab,” on the outside door, fifteen women in their late teens with lab coats worn over colorful cotton saris were busy doing experiments at the bench stations or scurrying up and down the room with test tube or a beaker in hand to get the necessary reagent for their experiments. I was one among those final year chemistry major students in the room on that day.

Because our professor Miss.Rhine was away that afternoon, we were at ease to smile and exchange some funnies whenever possible. Always watching the clock on the wall and the supervising TAs walking around the room, we tried to some fun amidst tiring work and pungent smell of chemical fumes coming out of our experiments. Being on our feet and doing experiments all day long had been hard enough, but managing the time to finish the task in hand was a challenge to most of us in the room. Especially, to someone like me, who was slow and a perfectionist.  Time seemed to be running fast , and  It was then I realized I was running short of a reagent.

Quickly grabbing a small measuring jar off the rack, I hurried to the shelf on which stood strong acids and corrosive liquids. Scanning through the printed labels on the brown bottles across the shelf, I quickly spotted Phenol, the reagent I needed for my experiment.  The bottle being full, felt heavy when I took it off the shelf.  In my haste, I overlooked the nature of the liquid and tried to pour it into the narrow mouthed - cylinder from a rather heavy bottle. Result- the corrosive liquid quickly overflowed the cylinder and ran down my left arm within seconds.  At first, it felt like cold smoothy running down my arm; but, within seconds its coolness turned into vengeance and started to scorch my hand with intense pain. I felt as if my whole arm was set on fire and I was about to faint.

Quickly, the cry of those nearby alerted our lecturer and the TA to rush to my side and apply first aid. After my injured arm lavishly powdered down with baking soda like substance, I was rushed to a nearby hospital in a taxi with our college nurse. At the hospital, the wait was long and my pain became intense. Because my case was not life-threatening, the staff at the hospital let me wait till they attended to more serious ones. After sitting an hour or so on the hard wooden bench in the emergency room, I was finally called in to be seen by the doctor. The doctor quickly me a tetanus shot in the other arm and applied my left forearm from elbow to the wrist with a dark purple ointment. Painted in purple, my arm would have looked perfect to wave on a parade, but the scorching pain made me to whimper and groan instead.

Back in my room an hour later, I blurted out in a loud cry.  Far away from home, I longed for my mother’s touch and her gentle strokes on my back at such a time. I also longed for the company of my brothers and sisters, who would have tried to make me laugh and forget my pain by their humor and comical gesture at a time like this. On any other afternoon, especially,  after standing long hours in the laboratory, the gentle breeze coming through my wide open windows on the upper floor would have lulled me to sleep. But, not that afternoon. Utterly feeling alone and homesick, I cried out to the Lord in self-pity.

“ Lord, I’m in terrible pain. My whole arm is burning as if it’s set on fire. Why don’t you do something Lord? Please make the pain go away soon.”  I tried to remind Him of His promises and expected Him to make my pain go away at once.  No miracle took place. The pain remained intense and unbearable.

Then something strange happened. Suddenly my attention turned to the suffering of Jesus Himself on the cross. I began to see the pain He underwent on the cross, with huge iron nails piercing through his palms and feet, and a crown of thorns poking His head all around. What an agony, Jesus must have gone through at that time. In comparison, the pain in my arm was like a pin prick. If the Lord could endure such pain patiently for my sake, what am I wailing about? Why am I making a big fuss over a little pain in the arm. How much more Jesus should have complained of the terrible pain He underwent for you and me? To my surprise, the more I thought about it, the lesser I became aware of the pain in my arm.  In fact, the moment I took my eyes off myself and focused on Jesus, I felt my pain sliding away. Within minutes, the scorching pain left me without a trace.

Truly I couldn’t even believe it at first. But it did happen. The pain that was tormenting me all this time simply vanished. When I shared this experience with someone years later, she thought it might the injection the doctor gave me. I was told the shot the doctor gave me was a tetanus shot and not something for pain.  Even if the doctor had given me a pain killer shot, I doubt whether it would have brought me instant healing like this. We could call it a coincidence, medical intervention or a miracle. I would call it a miracle, for I had never experienced such an instant healing like that ever before or after.

 Yes, God has the power to heal us when we cry to Him in our need. But, His methods differ from time to time. Sometimes He does it miraculously; sometimes through medication and other times through changing our focus, hearts and circumstances.  God has His unique way of answering our prayers.

I also saw this incident as a blessing in disguise. Many in my resident hall, including my juniors, to whom I haven’t even uttered a “hello!” before, came to my aid when I needed to use my injured hand. Because I needed to keep that arm from getting wet to prevent any inflammation, I could only use my right arm. In our college at that time, we didn’t have the luxury of dishwasher or taps in our dining room or kitchen. We had to wash our own plates and tumblers by pumping water from the ground by hand.

So, when the girls in my hall found out about my injury, they offered their hands to help me wash my plate, carry my books, comb my hair, dress up in my sari, and making me comfortable in every way. Not only God enabled my pain to go away, He also opened my eyes to see the love and care of my fellow colleagues-Christians as well as Hindus.

This incident taught me a great lesson which I’ll never forget. When our eyes are on Jesus, our mindset seems to change. When our focus is on others’ needs than on our very own, our problem  seems to matter less.  What a better way to overcome pain and strife?***

Pain, Prayer and Praise

Why, why and why, that's what I asked God when I heard that Leela acca, my highschool teacher and closest neighbor in my hometown forty years back was hospitalized and was much in pain in Edmonton, Canada. Two months hadn't passed since her husband died and caring for him  an year when he was almost bed-bound, must have made her not only grief-stricken but exhausted too.

No wonder, she took the invitation of her friend and went away from Toronto for a month or so to get over her sorrow and loneliness. Never would have she imagined what was in store for her during the holidays in Edmonton. It was there, suddenly she developed an unbearable pain and was rushed to hospital and underwent an emergency surgery for perforated intestine. Not a good thing to happen, a serious one too.

If it have been one surgery, it would have been bearable, but  she has had atleast three abdominal surgeries within a week or two. I never knew about her serious condition until a week ago and that's when I took a call to the hospital and was able to talk to her. She sounded so frail and in much pain. She wasn't a person who complains, but the pain must have been so severe that she talked nothing else, but about her pain. That night after talking to her, I couldn't sleep. I almost felt her pain and sadness. She hasn't got her husband beside her for comfor. Having no children and siblings, she must have felt lost and saddenened on top of the physical pain. That's why I cried out to God asking why, why and why.

If she had fallen ill like this in Toronto, her her friends and neigbbors and her husband's nieces and nephews would have been around her doing whatever help they could do. But in Edmonton? I don't know how many people she even know there. Friends and relations may not be able to fly over there to be with her even if they want to. Maybe one or two may go, but how long could they stay. Why should it happen this way? In her condition, she wasn't allowed to fly by commercial plane she was told. To charter a flight and go, it would cost at least $ 50,000. she had found out. It didn't seem right. And it didn't seem fair.

After all she's a sincere Christian, always ever ready to help those in need. How many of her relatives in Sri Lanka she had helped and even helping. She and her husband were in charge of an orphanage when the war in the country was at the peak. The village they stayed was under crossfire and threat of looting, gun shots and , hunger faced them constantly. There was no reason for them to stay there with the orphans. If chosen, they could have abandoned them and gone somewhere else for their safety. But they didn't. They stayed for the sake of those children. They ate what they ate. Once she told us that they make a huge pot of rice porridge everyday and that's what they ate morning , noon and night. In that war climate, things were scarce to buy and money was short. They could feel snakes slithering underneath their mats at night while they are sleeping and once her husband, a heart patient got a chest pain and not having any help around or medication to get for the pain, she had given him his old medication, the expired date one.

 Prayer was the only thing that kept us alive and gave the strength to keep going in such a time, she used to say. Such was her faith and obedience to God. And that's why I asked him, why Lord now and why in Edmonton and not in Toronto where she has friends and neighbors to help.

God knows much better than any of us and his reason, I may never fathom. But think of it, Edmonton may have been a better choice , when it comes to access to doctors and medical care. I wonder whether she could have had similar or better care there, knowing well of the long delays for doctors appointments. She seems to be well satisfied with the nursing care she's getting and I understand she's in a private ward.

Probably paid by her husband's niece or nephew. For sure Leela acca won't be having funds or insurance for such things. Even though she has no children or siblings, she's blessed to have loved ones who care for her.
I'm glad that I asked Emma to go and visit her at the hospital and let me know her condition. That itself would show Leela acca that we care and she's loved. I haven't stopped praying for her eversince I talked to her at the hospital. Emma told me that she needs lots of prayers and she has included Leela acca's name in her prayer group's list. It's nice of Emma to do that. Sweet as she is, she's a dear friend who prays and have a listening ear for others.

I pray that God's miraculous power will heal this woman of faith and give her a speedy recovery so that she could travel back home without much delay. God, you answer prayers and you've answered many of hers and mine. We  stand in faith for healing to come through to her. Amen.