I was doing my homework and read something about the Exodus: the Israelites time in the wilderness got me thinking.

It was in their suffering that God was making Himself known to them.

As a refresher-the generation of Israelites that were enslaved in Egypt lived about 400+ years after Joseph (who was the son of Jacob, who was the son of Isaac, who was the son of Abraham-the 3 Patriarchs of Faith).

This whole generation knew of God as a distant memory because they were living a nightmare of oppression and slavery. They needed to be reintroduced to God in a manner that they would have no doubt that He was the same God that had spoken to their “Father” Abraham so many years ago!

They needed to know Him before they could choose to love Him.

I asked myself how do I learn my lessons the best?

Unfortunately, it is when I struggle, fail, hurt, and feel weak…

That is the thought process that got me thinking.

If I try to remember a time that I felt closest to God, knew He was drawing me nearer….It was in my pain.

Dan and I often think back on the 10 weeks when he was without a job and we were on the verge of despairing over our unseen, uncertain future no longer living life as we knew it. We had nothing to rely but God and His provision.

Yes, Dan looked for jobs and we spent less money in those days but he also turned jobs down because we knew they were not moving us in the direction that God would have us go.

I chose to not work overtime because it brought more stress into our house even though it also brought more money.

We chose to go on a mission trip because we felt that God had still blessed us with so much that we wanted to keep giving back to Him what was already His (our time, our resources, our gifts, our skills).

Those were stressful days…lots of crying for sure! But, those were also beautiful days: our friends surrounded us, we better appreciated the small things between us and our boys, we quickly reprioritized what was really important, and we sincerely felt the presence of God upon us.

It was marvelous to NOT be scared or anxious, to have a strange sense of calm about us, to have sudden clarity of vision…

That made me think harder to try to find a way to better explain a loving God that reveals Himself through suffering and pain but is not the one bringing the pain…

My Niccy-Noodle (the Young Master), aged 5-6, wrestled with his cousin one weekend while we were out of town and ended up smashing his head on the corner of a wall. He had to have 3 staples into his scalp that vacation weekend!

On the day those staples were to be taken out, once we were home, the boys had a snow day from school leaving them to the care of their dad who worked from home.

It must be known that my boys were curious creatures that loved to discover the things in the woods behind our house and then haul those “things” into our yard. One could say they were “garbage pickers” as it was definitely garbage brought into my yard…but we prefer the term “collectors”!

It was one of these items collected (a glass bottle) that the snow covered and my Noo (poor kid has atrocious nicknames!) kneeled heavily onto it! The glass slashed through his snow pants and jeans (probably PJ’s if I know his dad) slicing up his knee with a nasty gash.

Panic- central entered the Barber house of men while mom was at work!!

Long story short- yes, I am capable of doing that- I met Dan at the doctor’s office for my baby to have staples taken out of his head and to have stitches put into his knee! It was a rough day for that kid and not one he has forgotten to this day either!

As my blue eyed, blond, chubby handed, baby-teethed son lay on the table with his leg extended, I leaned over his chest to keep him still for the doctor while also staying in his line of vision: I wanted him to see only me, not the needles about to cause him even more pain.

Nic and I quickly became nose to nose as he entangled his little hand into the hair at the back of my head. We breathed the same air as he pinched his eyes shut telling me how much this hurt, ever so quietly, with his forehead pressed against mine .

The beaded sweat on his nose and lip moisturized the air between us as I murmured over and over how much I loved him, to hang onto me, that this will be over soon, that I am sorry he hurts so bad, but this is the only way for it to get better…

My heartbeat became one with his as we focused on each other.

I do not think I have ever felt closer to another human being in my entire life as I did in that moment.

This was an intense period of suffering for my child as he received 20 “small” pokes to numb the area that was already painfully raw from the glass slashing his skin and another 20 pokes to stitch the area (this was after the staples had already been CUT from his scalp).

As a child, he did not understand this pain or welcome it, but he accepted the necessity of it to move him into the direction of healing because he trusted what I told him in his pain…and he clung to me during it- the one who never left his side for even a second during the ordeal.

My child knows, from this experience and many others, that I will never leave him in his suffering or pain. He knows I will stop what I am doing when he says he has blood dripping from a cut, he is about to throw up, or he needs to tell me something.

That is my relationship with God: forged through so many trials (some I learned from and others I breezed past without a second glance once the suffering was over).

As my eyes have become more open to His presence, I find I long to be where He is…just as I longed for that feeling of closeness with my son to never end.

The reality is this:

It is in my pain that He is more noticeable- maybe because I am suddenly stripped of my self-sufficiency and capabilities…I am in need then and Jesus is the Provider.

His breath becomes my breath, He becomes my focus telling me He loves me, to hang onto Him, He will not leave me…

What a visual that suddenly created for me: God as my Father, hovering over me as I hurt…

I do not want my child to be hurt in order to feel that intimacy with him again. That’s why I am so thankful for the joy in life that unites my son and I in ways equally as intimate, but are more special because of the bond that was formed in the tougher times.

I do not want to suffer in order to feel the closeness of the Lord. But, I am so thankful for the relationship that has been formed and solidified during my trials that has carried over into my worship in the good times!

In those days in the valley of the shadow of death (so to speak) I got to KNOW God and have chosen to love Him because of what I now know.