It’s amazing how long the memory of pain can stay with you. When Justin was in 6th grade, I dropped him off at the field with his baseball team. I had a few errands I had to run so I started to leave the parking lot when Megan said, “Silly brother, he just fell off the fence!” I re-parked the car and went to check on him. When I reached him, one of the other moms nearby said she was pretty sure it wasn’t good. I climbed the fence and proceeded to try to inspect the damage. He kept saying he was ok but when I went to move his arm it bent completely down about 3 inches above the wrist. Now, I’m no doctor but I figured he had a broken arm. The coach explained that the gate to the field was locked, so he and the rest of the team were climbing the 6-foot chain link fence in their cleats. Justin’s cleat got stuck on the top of the fence, he started to lose his balance, so he jumped, not realizing his cleat was firmly attached to the top. He broke the fall with his arm. In retaliation, the fall broke his arm. Since I was confident in my diagnosis, I figured the next step was getting him to the ER…but the gate was still locked, and they couldn’t find the janitor who had the key. So, we sat and waited. And waited. And waited some more. At one point Justin passed out from the pain but through the whole thing, he never complained. Silent tears would roll down his face, but nothing was ever said. Thankfully about 25 minutes later they finally located the key and helped me carry him to the car and we were off to the ER.
At this point, the shock was wearing off and the pain was excruciating. Thank God for morphine and amazing nurses. They tried setting his arm in the ER but the damage was too extensive, so they sent us home with pain meds and a splint and told us we’d get a call first thing in the morning for surgery. As they were getting ready to discharge us the nurse told us no pain meds after midnight since he’d probably be having surgery first thing in the morning. This seemed weird to me, so I verified with two other nurses and a doctor and all of them agreed, no pain meds after midnight. At 4:00 am when the meds started wearing off, I had no idea the hell we were about to walk through. By 6:00 I sat on the ground next to my son’s recliner, tears rolling down our faces. There are no words when you see your child in that much pain and are completely helpless to do anything except hold their hand. At 7:00 the nurse from the surgery center called to schedule his surgery, but before she could say anything I begged her to allow me to give him some meds. She was confused so I explained that per the doctor’s orders, he hadn’t taken any pain meds since midnight. I’ll never forget her words, “Honey, set down the phone and go give that child some pain meds right now. I’ll wait.” It appeared that the ER staff had misinformed me, and he should have had pain meds all along.
The surgery went smoothly but they did have to put a pin in it. The pain was constant for the first 4-6 weeks until the pin and the full arm cast were removed and exchanged for a cast that went just below the elbow. Once they took the pin out there was immediate relief. Another 4-6 weeks in the short cast and then the big day came to have it completely removed! We walked into the all too familiar doctor’s office with tentative excitement, ready for this whole ordeal to be over. They cut off the cast, fitted him for a new removable brace, and sent us on our way. As we were walking back out through the waiting room, I looked down at my son expecting to see joy and instead, I saw fear and him fighting to hold back tears. He looked up at me and in a choked voice said, “Please, have them put it back on! It’s not safe, I don’t like the way this feels, I just want my cast back!”
A year later our pastor asked the question, why do we hold on to our guilt? Then compared it to someone who broke their arm and didn’t want to have the cast removed even after it healed. He stated how silly that was because there was no longer a need for the cast. I was instantly transported back to that doctor’s office and the look of fear on my son’s face. He didn’t need the cast anymore, his arm was healed, but after living with it for the better part of three months it was part of him. There was a comfort level, a security, that came from having the cast. Had I not experienced this event for myself I would have agreed with the pastor, how silly indeed. But, having walked this road with my son, rationally it is silly, but emotionally and mentally it makes sense. What he had gone through was traumatizing, and in his mind as long as he had that cast he was safe.
Holding on to guilt rationally is silly. We’ve been forgiven. Our sin no longer defines who we are. We are free to use our lives to glorify and honor Him, and yet…..I find myself encased in the safety of the self accused, I’m not good enough, I’m not ready to be used because I’m not strong enough, and I still have scars. I walk around scared to trust that I’m truly loved and that He has taken care of the cost of my fall. My son walked around for the first few days with his arm tucked up against his body. There was still pain if it got jarred or if he tried to use it to lift heavy objects. The chronic pain threatened to paralyze him, as fear moved in. His arm was all shriveled up from lack of use, the skin was pale and sloughing. A constant reminder of his fall. When we fall, the guilt, fear, and shame are constant reminders of our failures. We see and feel the consequences and hold on to them thinking that somehow that will keep us safe. Or maybe we feel like we deserve the pain as punishment. Either way, we hold on and walk around like our arm is still broken. Unable to fully participate and be effective.
Now don’t get me wrong, there is a time for healing. Had he ripped the cast off and not let his arm heal he would have been crippled for life. But after it healed had he not begun to use it, he may have as well been crippled. Eventually, he was able to see this pain as a reminder of where he had come from and a warning to be careful. He slowly started trusting his arm again and began using it normally. Guilt has to be let go of or we allow it to paralyze us. He has a scar and he still eats left-handed, but he’s moved on and healed. The price has been paid and we’ve been forgiven and healed…it’s time to drop our guilt and move forward.