Pain is a stale word without context. It can range from torture to annoyance. It can be life long or it can be momentary. Without knowing the person, the story, or the symptom load that testifies to the word, it becomes an over-used, misunderstood, and an assumed word in our lexicon, liken to the word love.
The edges of the thistle and the razor of the sword, the pulse of reverberating ache, and the heart-sink of trauma–pain is a voluminous word without context. It could encompass all of grief and hurt, loss and longing, injustice and instability from here to the far corner of the village we have yet to step foot in.
Why then must my thoughts gather at the bank of this stream? Why does my soul perch upon the low branch that catches the wind and offspray in tandem return? Why, when I say a faith and foundation grant surety of hope and sanity in the unseen, do I fold and bend to places of dull and hollow? Oft I am unwilling to tell my story or feel the ground beneath my wander. I exclaim the joy and beg the real, but I close down access when the whisper of pain sneaks in.
Of who we strive to become, each of us, to the world around us, may we be willing to give pain a place next to purity. Not to become pompous or pretentious, negative or naysayers, but to etch the sky with images of people who stand when storms swipe.
This is the softer side of pain. The cushion that let’s us engage in memories or circumstances knowing hardship can thieve joy, but we can gain more again. Knowing more confidently that pain prevails in portion, but the forward gives function to hope and fervor to our diligence. We won’t win every hour or each day of these battles which wage, but we will soften the struggle by elevating healing, honoring stories and people, and claiming life over defeat. We were not created for defeat, but rather vibrancy and overcoming.
Stay the course–pain not given the crown nor allowed to be the crutch. Press on, for growth and perseverance pay out dividends fresh.