Taking the hard medicine

Rory tested positive for the flu almost two years ago at the end of March, which happened to coincide with the start of croup and a nether-regions irritation requiring baking soda baths (thanks, sensitive skin). The poor thing was miserable. There were high fevers and body aches and gnarly, painful coughs, etc etc. But honestly? The hardest thing was the tamiflu.

We caught the flu in time to get her started on tamiflu, which was a miracle for this (then) pregnant mama. I would have taken anything to shorten those symptoms. But after the first dose she decided she didn't like it, nor did she want to take it.

There was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth, literally. There were, of course, preemptive conversations trying to explain why she needed to take the medicine. There was bribing and sugar coating and every trick our frazzled minds could think of. But then, there was flat refusal. Unwavering, tireless, strong-willed refusal.

But the medicine still had to be taken. And it had to be taken now.

Our sweet (and spicy) two-year old didn't care about tamiflu's timeline, or mine. So weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth there was. There was screaming. There was blood. There was hitting and biting and every sort of fight. I would do all I could to get it in, but often had to bring out reinforcements and hold her down. She was furious, and miserable. But the medicine had to be taken and we knew it would be best for her to do it now.

Every day I tried to explain once again that if she just took the medicine (emphasizing that I knew it was yucky) it could be over sooner and we could feel well and do all sorts of fun things. I tried to tell her that this was going to help her get better faster... because remember how bad it feels to have the flu?

Then one day a switch flipped. Nothing had changed, but she decided she would take the medicine. And take it she did- Without so much as a whimper.

The warm sun streamed through the window as we sat there on her little bed together and I had this epiphany. Really hard things happen to us in our lives. The theoretical flu hits us out of nowhere and brings us to our knees, hiding under covers with our bodies shaking. Lucky for us, there is medicine. There is a healing balm provided for each ailment. And there's a Savior who knows the required treatment. And it might not taste like cookies. It might taste like forgiveness when it's hard. It might taste like repentance. It might taste like work and therapy and letting go.

Does taking the provided medicine make our ailments disappear immediately? No. And certainly the more painful and serious the flu the longer it may take to heal. But does that mean that we shirk our medicine after the first dose? Of course not.

And like my girl, we can fight the medicine as the Lord tries so lovingly to administer it. Though he doesn't force it on us, we may weep and wail and gnash under the pressure of knowing what we should do and NOT wanting to do it. Honestly, we may be sick for a long time before we open our eyes to see him sitting there, on our little twin bed in the sunlight- waiting. We may fight the medicine he offers for days, we may fight it for years.

But God willing there will come a day if we so choose, when we just stop fighting. When for some reason it clicks, or maybe we are just so desperate to get rid of the sludge in our chest that we sit in the sunlight and take the medicine. That we revel in the recovery. And I hope that day comes sooner than later, where we sit in the sunlight with the Lord and let him heal us.