A little over a month ago my son took a massive fall down the stairs. Bad. I haven’t mentioned it on here, but if you follow my wife on the book of faces, you probably know about it. He walked to the top of a very steep and hard flight of stairs and looked down. A couple steps behind him, I said, “Sawyer stop!” and then cringed as he looked down and attempted that first step. His legs not long enough for the depth of the sudden drop in elevation, he continued in his forward roll and flipped, head hitting first, then turning about 45 degrees to the side and rolling down, over and over and over. I ran, I lunged, I hit the stairs like they were a snowy hill and I slid down after him. We both hit the bottom where the stairs turned and stopped at about the same time.
The cry started immediately, and the bruises welted up within minutes. Adrenaline took over for me and I ran. We found Mama, we briefly talked to a doctor, and then we took off for the emergency room. For about 3 hours he wouldn’t put his left foot to the ground. He cried non-stop. But then after an entire day in the hallway of the emergency room, an MRI, and a sweet hospital meal, we all three walked out on our own power with nothing more serious than bruises. A couple days later, he was as good as new. Had forgotten the experience, and was again running and diving off of cliffs.
Now here we are a month later. My elbow still hurts where it bruised. As does my lower back. And my leg’s not quite back to full strength. All from diving down the stairs after my ‘fragile’ son. What happened?! When did I get so old?! I remember when aging was so exiting. Going to college and discovering daily that I was getting stronger and more energetic without really doing anything. I remember going out to play basketball at midnight because I had energy and wasn’t tired and, why not? But now I nurse bruises for a month and it’s still sore.
I’m thankful that God promises us new spiritual bodies (1 Cor 15:44) that will be like and reflect His glory (Phil 3:21). In other words, they won’t crumble, and hurt, and ache. I didn’t appreciate this whole part of eternity and the new earth, but I’m starting to. Hearing my grandmother tell me that she’s in pain all the time scares me a bit. I’m not too great with pain. Never have been. I have this theory that maybe my nervous system is super-active and so I actually feel pain exponentially more than most people, when it happens. Or maybe I’m just a pansy.
Until that new body shows up, I’ll keep running mine and thankfully “consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Right?