Pain . . .

I will here admit a guilty pleasure:
I watch the tv show "House" and I love it. If for nothing else, Hugh Laurie with a Yank accent.

The season finale was fairly depressing. The most depressing part for me was this exchange of dialogue:

"I don't want the pain, I don't want the misery . . ."
"We don't always get what we want."

I live in pain daily. And this week, my pain has flared up. I hate it, it sucks.

Life goes on.

Here's the deal though. I have two dear friends who have just found out that there 7 year old son has Leukemia. They wrote on their blog about their son having muscle spasms from the chemotherapy that rated a 10 on the smiley face chart. Been there, done that, got the &*%$* t-shirt. I read that and I cried. I cried for a little boy who has to rate his pain with a smiley face. And let me say, there ain't much to smile about when you get to 10.

I am an adult. I have wrestled with God about why I have to live like this. And those were some serious bouts. Why does a little boy have to suffer that sort of pain? Can he wrestle with God? Can he understand, not the why, but what of it? Can he come to terms with it?

Can I? Have I, can I, come to terms with my own pain?

I don't know . . .