How do we make sense out of pain and hardship?
I recently read about a boy who was born without the ability to use one of the joints in his thumbs. On the surface, this might seem to be a relatively small disability. But taking into account how often we use our thumbs, and the complex movements we sometimes require them to make, we might begin to see what a difficult trial this would have been for a young boy. And this is particularly true of one who, in his words, “longed to make things, ships, houses, engines. Many sheets of cardboard and pairs of scissors I spoiled, only to turn from my hopeless failures in tears.”
I’ll admit that I find stories like this one hard to hear. Perhaps it’s because I have three kids of my own, and I reflexively imagine what it would be like for one of them to face the same difficulty. It would not be easy for me to see one of them crying with frustration and sorrow after failing again and again to do what most of us can accomplish with relative ease.
Of course I would hate it. Of course I would question God. Of course I would wonder why it had to be that way.