This will only hurt for a minute...

I just took the youngest Fossling to the pediatrician for her checkup.  It's so hard to believe that she is six months old.  I desperately miss the newborn stage already.  (For those of you who are thinking what I know you are thinking...nope...our quiver is full!)  In her typical fashion, she was all smiles and coos throughout the visit.  After the doctor examined her, we playfully looked at the pictures on the walls and I bounced her on my knee while singing songs.  Then the nurse returned with two little "stingers" filled with immunizations.  Before laying her on the table, I calmly told her, "It only pinches for a second."  Then, I lovingly smiled at her while the nurse administered the shots.  Not a peep for the first, but oh did she ever get red-faced for the second!  My heart broke.  I gently offered her a pacifier, rubbed her forehead and kissed her nose, and then held her close in my arms while  whispering, "Momma's here.  It's all done.  You did a great job!"  Within ten seconds she was smiling again and her face was as joyful as always.  Even I was shocked.
I have lost count of the number of times that life has merrily been rolling along when out of the clear blue sky, the thunder and lightning of painful circumstances invades a perfect summer day.  The loud crack of thunder from the shocking call of a friend who's marriage is falling apart.  The frightening flash of lightning when death steals a loved one.  The torrential downpour of rain when you realize that your family is crumbling.  The dark, black cloud that hovers overhead when financial burdens cannot be shaken.  These storms of life can come without warning and shake the very foundation beneath our feet.
It's incredibly difficult, near impossibly really, to think that our pain will not last forever when we are found in the middle of such circumstances.  Pain is real...it really hurts.  It can take our breath away.  And it's hard to think that what seems like eternity is merely a moment in the eyes of the One who sees your pain and carries your grief.  Because, although fear can force us in on every side, we are not crushed by it.  Our pain perplexes us, but we are not in despair.  Persecution encamps us, but we are not abandoned.  Hard times strike us down, but we are never destroyed by them.  We have no reason to lose heart.  Every day we are being renewed.  And our (momentary) troubles are achieving something greater than we can imagine.  If you don't believe me, check out what my dear friend Paul once wrote in one of his letters. (2 Corinthians, chapter 4, to be exact.)
My little baby trusted me enough, through the stinging pain of her shot, to know that she was going to be fine.  She doesn't see it now, but later she will know that I allowed that brief amount of pain to come to her, so that she wouldn't receive a greater harm from a potential disease.  I never left her side.  I held her in my arms.  I comforted her with my words.  I assured her with my promise.
I am amazed at how my daughter, who is only half of a year old, taught me something incredible today about how God loves me.