Isaiah and I left the van and opened the gate to the backyard. The afternoon sun was warm and welcoming. Before going into the house, he and I sat on the bottom step of the patio stairs.
“I’m proud of you,” I said. “You were brave.”
My son pressed close. His fingers looped through mine. His lower lip jutted out in an unusual way. He’d just had a cavity filled.
“Uh huh,” he said.
“I’ll help you brush better. We’ll be more careful.”
He nodded. My heart was tender for the vulnerability on his upturned face. He was the first of five sons to have a cavity. It had been tough to fill.
I kissed Isaiah’s forehead just as Rugby, our lab pup, rushed over to greet us. He and I must’ve had the same idea. He lavished wet kisses on Isaiah’s neck and cheeks.
I scratched Rugby’s ears while Isaiah ran his hands down his pup’s soft, yellow back.
We were silent for a moment. Then Isaiah had a concern.
“Mom,” he said. His words were slurred. “We should brush Rugby’s teeth. I don’t want him to have a cavity. I don’t want him to have a day like this.”
My sweet son. His eyes brimmed with worry. But his wisdom held value.
And a verse from the Word came to mind:
You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8 NLT
As I sat beside my son, the puppy wriggling between us, I began to wonder if the Lord measures our hurt, holds our tears, so that we may, in turn, pour them out for others.
I’ve been meeting once a week with a group ladies. Our common threads are our love for the Lord and our struggles. When we’re together, we’re wide-open. We share from deep places. We work through strong emotions. Like worry. Fear. And the outflow?
We encourage one another.
We offer love, prayer, and support.
The help-offering is precious because it flows from places of pain. From our own struggles, we can offer unique empathy and wisdom.
It’s a beautiful thing when the hardships of our life-walk can be offered to benefit someone else.
Isaiah put his hand on my arm. “What do you think, Mom?” he asked. “About Rugby? He can have the toothbrush the dentist gave me.”
“That’s a great idea about brushing Rugby’s teeth. We’ll help him – me and you. We’ll get him his own toothpaste and brush, though.”
Isaiah smiled the biggest smile. The first I’d seen all day.
Helping others from our painful places is a blessing for the one who receives.
But it benefits for the giver, too.
Lord, let me help someone today. Let my tough experiences be used to bring encouragement and strength. Amen.
