feel the pain

Yesterday, Cooper had a run-in with the stairs… and the stairs won. We were at Marmee and Papa’s house (Curtis’ parents) and Cooper was playing upstairs with his cousins. All of the sudden, this is what we hear downstairs:

thud. thud. thud-thud-thud. thud-thud.thud…

screaming.

I was halfway up the stairs (thank God for the mid-staircase landing!) by the end of the thuds. I thought for sure that I would find his little body broken. All of it. As I scooped up my crying baby and surveyed his body for blood and mangled limbs, I breathed a sigh of relief that he was- for all intents and purposes- okay. That’s when I saw a HUGE knot forming- already- on his sweet face. I’m talking 1/2” out from the side of his face within seconds.

It was awful.

He cried and cried, and all I could do was hold him close and tell how sorry I was that it hurt… so, so sorry. That was it. Curtis stood by our side for a few minutes, helplessly, until he finally asked to hold him. I understood: the only thing worse than holding your hurting little boy is not being able to hold your hurting little boy.

We didn’t attempt to photograph his bruised little face last night, but this is what we woke up to this morning:

The swelling had spread out and didn’t look quite so menacing. The bruising, however, had extended. He now had a bona fide black eye.

The thing is, this picture doesn’t do it justice. So, we kept trying. We were sure that one of these could capture the full extent of his little injury:

“Cooper, hold still for just a minute.”

“Cooper, where is your boo-boo?”

And what did he say? “Ball? Play? Ball?”

The kid is tough. Tougher than we are.

My heart aches every time I look at that black and blue face. I know it seems dramatic… all this over some bruises? Before Cooper, I never knew the agony of someone else’s pain. I remember crying with him when he got his first immunization shot, because it was the first time I heard him cry from pain.

It struck me tonight that this pales in comparison to what God feels for me in the midst of my pain. If I can cry over Cooper’s tears, how much more is He grieving over mine? If my heart aches at my baby’s hurt, how much more is He longing to take away mine?

So often I forget how deeply personal the Lord is, how He has woven Himself into my heart. Having a child has given me glimpses, but I know my understanding is still so limited. I was grateful that our sermon today reminded me of this:

“Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion… How gracious he will be when you cry for help! As soon as he hears, he will answer you.” (Isaiah 30:18-19)