Painful Reminders

I've been sick for 4 days. 2 and a half of those I spent firmly planted on the couch. Those other times there were things I had to do.

New windows for our house arrived last week, the weather was right on Saturday and I had help, so I loaded up on the Day-quil and put those in. I fell down the steps . . . while carrying a ladder. Sunday I had to preach, so it was Day-quil again. After church I helped cook and fell down the steps again, carrying an armload of things to the freezer in the basement.

Today my head and throat feel better, but I'm sore.

My knees are killing me and that makes me feel like an idiot. What kind of grown man falls down the stairs? Twice in one weekend? Every step I take reminds me what happened.

My hands are also sore, but that makes me feel good. Putting replacement windows in an old house means scraping and pulling and twisting and cutting and prying and drilling and adjusting and caulking and cleaning, all done without gloves. So, my hands are scraped and cut and dry and cracked and sore. Everything I do reminds me of the new windows.

Pain is one of those things we instinctively run away from. We automatically associate it with bad things, but that isn't always the case. Growing hurts. Getting in shape hurts. Learning hurts. Love hurts.

Pain is a message, but not always for what we think.