I’m not really that old. Twenty-nine for the 2nd time? Third? (Thinking in head)… Well let’s just say I’m not that old. But we have a family history, so every now and then the duty must be done.
In the doctor’s office, I hop up to what we’ll refer to as the smasher. A very sweet technician proceeds to apologize in advance for any pain I have to endure, and I refrain from any “but you haven’t even taken me to dinner yet!” jokes even though clearly, she has hit first base.
Boob squashed? Check! But oh no, not so fast. She just keeps on clicking that dial, lowering the
smasher until I have literally no feeling left in my toes.
I’ve never before had sympathy for what play dough feels like before you send it through the spaghetti factory until now. I’m sorry, play dough. Can you ever forgive me?
“Okay honey, now hold your breath.” she says.
Meanwhile I’m trying to remember my name, and if in fact I drove here or was delivered to this mean planet where they torture you with smashers until you confess something… anything.
A few more images, a few more smashings, and then the prisoners are released to go back into a nice, cushy, overly padded bra, safe from the smasher until the next time. Shucks, I may from here forward wear TWO padded bras at a time. You know, so they’ll forgive me.
Again, the technician profusely apologizes, emphasizes that “it’s not a personal thing, and I had no intent to hurt you.” Well of course she didn’t. It’s her job to check us all out, a life saving job, sometimes.
“You don’t have to apologize. But you must get a lot of complaining about it, huh?”
“Yes,” she says. “Some of them start in on me as soon as I turn the dial, accusing me of trying to hurt them! I just want to keep them safe.”
That seems like crazy talk. Why would people not realize she checks them to help them? What she’s doing may be lifesaving, or at the very least, provide a baseline picture of how they used to look so if someone does have something wrong down the road, this will both prepare the patient, and inform the doctor. But yes, people do get angry with her, even though she has their best interest at heart.
As I’m driving home, it didn’t take long for the pain I thought excruciating at the time, to subside. A good 10 minutes down the road and I was fine, and the ‘girls’ were likewise. Isn’t it that way with life? Sometimes God throws us for a loop. Sometimes we feel stuck in a smasher, and sometimes, we really are. I’ve looked up at God and said “Okay. I’m ready, you can stop turning that dial aaaannnnnny time now.” But nope, the dial’s not done, there is more to come, and yes, it does get worse. Sometimes, you don’t think you’ll ever be set free, and being “smashed” seems to become a normal way of life. The pain will never heal, the brokenness will never ease, and sometimes, a hole in your heart will never be full.
But God always has a reason, and one day, you do make it out of the vice. God doesn’t have an ulterior motive when these things happen, they just… happen. It could be a test for something bigger, a lesson we need to learn, or something even bigger down the road that is part of His ultimate plan. It could even be that He needs you to help someone else who is gripped by this same vice, and your demeanor is the only one He can use to help this person. We may not ever know until we get to heaven and can see the full picture then.
The pain does heal, though it may leave a scar. Just like that technician, God may be just getting a baseline, or He may be doing a lifesaving work in you. Trust in Him when you’re feeling the squeeze of that vice, and have comfort knowing He’s got you in His hands until your test is over.
XXXOOO,
~ Karen
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