Joy in Suffering

Many authors have hashed this out in many different ways.  I'm hashing this out in a very elementary way to help me understand more fully.

As I stood at my stove a few weeks ago, wishing I had more children, I realized my joy, my faith is witness to those around me who know my wish.  I am a shining light for Jesus because I suffer.   I want.  Yet I believe and trust.

I stood in line at the pool concession stand yesterday.  Earlier in the day, I had burned my hand and I needed a steady stream of ice water to cool the burn.  The ice water had turned tepid and my hand was on fire.  I thought about asking the kids at the front if I could cut.  I know them from Religious Ed.  They would have gladly let me in.  As I contemplated what to do, I started to think about women around the world who burned their hands that day trying to cook on open fire.  Certainly it happens all the time if I I burned my hand on my first world stove.  I thought of dirt floors and bare feet and tin walls.  I thought of flies buzzing and dirty water and humid air.  I prayed for these women and their families as I waited in pain.  The pain connected me.  It opened me up.  It humbled me.  I was thankful for it.

The joy in suffering isn't just a page in a book anymore.