My five year old was experiencing some stomach issues and needed a blood test.   She was understandably worried, and I did my best to reassure her it would be over soon.

When her name was called, we did a slow shuffle to a colorfully painted room.  A young man, who I could have given birth to, walked in. He looked new to the profession and nervous. Not the combination this mama was looking for.

I smiled warmly, hoping to instill the confidence he appeared to need.

Eyeing his name tag, I popped my preschooler onto my lap and said brightly, “Mr. Tim knows how to make this really quick.”

His brow furrowed as he searched for a vein. “I do love a good challenge,” he replied.

My foot had an instinctive urge to connect with his shin. The correct response was, “I learned to do this in the army, while under rapid gunfire.  This will be a piece of cake ma’am.”

I kept up a steady stream of chatter to distract my daughter.  Mr. Tim made his selection and, without warning, stuck the needle in.  The blood entered the tube.

 “See,” I said as she whimpered. “That was the worst part. No more sticks.”

The blood stopped flowing. Crap. I continued my nonsense musings about the mural on the wall but watched closely as he pushed the needle in further and jiggled. It was enough to make me cringe.

 “Mommy, make it stop,” my daughter wept as I struggled to keep her still.  My heart broke. I could feel the pain through her.

Every mama knows they would do anything to prevent their child from hurting.  Anything.

“I know sweetie,” I consoled. “I would if I could, but we need to get these tests.”  I held her tight as she cried.

Mr. Tim moved to the other side without saying a word.  I knew what was coming but before I could explain, my five year old had figured it out.

“No! Not the other arm. You said one stick.”

 Yes, yes I did.

Sometimes the thing that is best for us in our life, is painful. We can’t understand why. Desperately we plead for it to stop, only to feel like it falls on deaf ears.

 I continued to hold her as she sobbed. Pieces of my shattered heart mixing with her tears.  But I didn’t let go. Never will.  And finally we were done.  We had made it to the other side.

 In all their suffering, He also suffered, and He personally rescued them. In His love and mercy, He redeemed them. He lifted them up and carried them through all the years.”

Isaiah 63:9 NLT

I leave the debate, over whether God “allows” or “causes” bad things to happen, to the theologians. But, what I do know, is that when we are in those dark moments in life, crying and afraid, our Father feels our pain.

When you are in that valley of despair, He is holding you, His arms wrapped tight. Personally rescuing, lifting and carrying you. His unfailing love and mercy mixing with your tears.

And He will not let go.  Never will.