Trust

This past winter I had been having issues with pain at the back of my heel.  It didn't seem too serious and I was told to make sure that I would take the time to stretch it and wear proper footwear to protect it.  Hmmm, I was OK with the stretching part, not so keen on the proper footwear part.
Well, that finally came back to bite me...sigh.
Just before we left for our camping trip this past July long weekend I experienced a lot of pain in my heel and the bump on the back of my heel had now grown to the size of a small golf ball.  It made preparing for the trip tough and it didn't help that I kept hitting the back of my heel into nearly everything that I walked around, stepped over or sat on.  With every bump I cringed in pain.  I began limping around which was hard on my hip and the pain was now radiating along my entire leg including my hip. Guess it was time to go and see someone about this as soon as we were home.
Urgent Care is a wonderful service that we have here in town, but, just not a place that I like to spend any amount of time.  The wait time wasn't too bad and I managed to see a wonderful doctor who took one look at my heel, which by now had gone down a bit in size, thanks to a lot of ice packs, and she said that I needed to see her husband who was also a doctor and he would decide if I needed to have a cortisone injection.  What?!?
She ran out of the room before I could say anything and about a minute later came in to say that her husband would see me on Friday at 8a.m.  Until then lots of ice packs, Advil for pain and orders to stay off my feet and NO shoes with any kind of backing on them.  Seriously?  I only have one pair of backless shoes and they were the ones I was wearing, albeit very reluctantly, because they are so very ugly.  Pride, pride, pride.
I was not very happy at that point, but, I thanked her for her help and limped out carrying my appointment card for Friday morning in my purse and my fears of an upcoming needle in my heel in my heart.
Thankfully going to work for the next two days did help to keep my mind preoccupied, but all too quickly Friday morning arrived.  I waited nervously in a chair in the waiting room, heard my name called and followed the receptionist into the doctor's office.  I kept telling myself that maybe he wouldn't think a needle was necessary but somehow I knew I was just fooling myself.
He walked in and after one quick look at my foot diagnosed my problem as Hagland's deformity and after a short explanation proclaimed that I should have a needle to help cope with it and possibly heal it.  He tapped around on the bump on the back of my heel and at one point he touched a very tender part and I nearly jumped off the bench.
"I always know how to find the sore spots" he said with a smile.
Yes, he did.  
I took a deep breath and then confessed to him my fear of having a needle in my heel.  He smiled and then said, "I won't lie, it will hurt a bit", not very comforting, but, I'll give him points for honesty. 
He then told me to 'hop' up on the examining table and we would get it done.  Well, I did not go 'hopping' up anywhere, but I did carefully maneuver my way up onto the table, sitting so that my foot was resting at an angle in front of me.
He didn't waste any time and pulled out a needle that made me catch my breath.  I have had many needles in my lifetime, but this one was a bit bigger than I was expecting.  I watched as he pulled some clear liquid out of a bottle with the syringe and then after he decided that there was enough and I had also nearly had enough, he opened up a small vial that contained what looked like white milk and added that to the syringe.  I innocently sat and watched him mix this concoction and the thought ran through my mind that I was really trusting someone I had only met in passing and he was going to stick that thing in my heel and I wasn't going to argue with him at all.  I never once asked him what he was mixing together, I had told him my fears but after he offered me a quick reassurance I didn't question him again, but, simply trusted that he knew what he was doing.   
He firmly placed his hand on my foot and with a compassionate look said, "I'm going to hold your foot while I give you the injection."  OK, I knew that wasn't a good sign.
But again, I simply sat there waiting for that initial poke of pain and it came, hard.  I cried out a bit, but then quickly bit my lip so that I wouldn't scare the woman across the hall who was waiting to see this doctor next.  I closed my eyes and tried to move my thoughts away from the pain.  I tried deep breathing, I whimpered and felt him push the needle in a bit harder and move it around as my mind registered the uncomfortable piercing pain.  I kept telling myself that it would be over soon and that this would make things better once the needle had done it's work.  I finally opened my eyes only to see that the needle had been completely inserted into the back of my heel and the last of the liquid was being pushed through with the plunger. I let out a deep breath, my heart pounding as he slowly pulled the needle out and then without hesitating he tapped the exact spot that he had earlier and said, "How does that feel?"  No pain.
He explained that some pain would return over the next 24 hours, but, then after that I should be good to go.  He placed a band-aid over the injection site and just before I walked out I thanked him for everything he had done.  
I drove home and I will admit I cried.  I then crawled into bed and slept for a couple of hours.  
And he was right, it's been fairly painful over the last 24 hours, but now it seems to be getting a little better, although I'm still only allowed to wear open-back shoes and walking for too long in a stretch causes pain so I'm still using ice packs and Advil is never far from my reach.
I've thought of that moment in the doctor's office a few times.  
How often do we ask God to help us when we are hurting and limping along in life, but, then instead of trusting that He knows what can help us to either come out of the situation or deal with it we pull back, questioning every little thing and then we go our own way thinking we know better.
Simply put, we don't trust Him...at least not completely!
We would very rarely do that with a doctor...why...because we have always been taught that doctors are to be trusted, no questions asked.  These men and women have studied the human body inside and out for years, they can help us. So, we put our lives in their hands believing that they will help us work through whatever ails us.
So, why don't we have that same kind of trust for the One who actually created our bodies and our souls?  Why do we question His love, His presence, His healing power? 
We may not always believe that He's taking us down the right road and it's true that whatever we may have to go through might be a very painful process, but He is there with us every step of the way, He is the One holding our feet so that we don't stumble and fall.  He is the One who is covering us with His peace and He is the One holding our hearts with more love and care than we will ever experience here on earth.


So, I ask myself, why don't I trust Him more? 

Trust in the LORD forever, for the LORD, the LORD himself, is the Rock eternal. Isaiah 26:4