I have a love/hate relationship with splinters. I hate having them, but I love the way it feels when they finally come out.
It is late, and I should be asleep, but I have some -- possibly cheesy or cliché -- lessons my splinters are teaching me.
1. Splinters can come in two ways; from healthy or unhealthy decisions. Sometimes the unhealthy decisions are due to someone else, someone not sanding woodwork well or leaving out sharp objects. Sometimes we get splinters because we are not where we should be, be it on the wrong path or in a place where splinters abound.
Sometimes splinters are the result of hard work. I worked in my yard yesterday for several hours and I have a lot of splinters to show for it. Each one almost feels like a badge of honor and the pain reminds me of what I accomplished. My yard is much better off after the work (and so am I, feeling peace as I look at my yard and the assurance that the exercise was a good decision).
2. I had one splinter deeply embedded that finally came out tonight. It was huge and I am so glad it is out! The end of pain brings great appreciation for the painless. The longer the pain or the larger the splinter, the greater the relief, too!
3. Sometimes rushing makes things worse. Our bodies do a masterful job of pushing out infections and inflictors like splinters. I was trying to get a splinter out and broke it in half. Now I have a tiny sliver, much harder to reach but just as painful, stuck in my hand.
4. Splinters are tiny, but their effect is large.
Life hurts sometimes, whether caused by our own poor choices or those of someone else. We end up with ridiculous "splinters" we don't think we should have to deal with. We try to protect ourselves (like wearing gloves while landscaping) and get even more frustrated that thorns work their way in. And they don't just poke us once. They pierce the skin and cozy up for and unwelcome stay.
And then we wait - for the slow release of the splinter. Or we grab the tweezers or needles for some do-it-yourself outpatient surgical splinter removal. Either way, it hurts and tests our patience.
When that splinter is gone, enjoy the painless times. Find joy in the tiny blessings that may only appear to be splinter-sized. Size doesn't matter as much as the effect.
And wear your scars with a sense of accomplishment. Allow the splinters to grow you, improve you, get you somewhere. The splinters will come, but it matters much more what you do with them.
In a world where things happen as coincidence or by happenstance, "splinters" are just a pain. But in the world God has given us, each splinter is an opportunity to trust God more, find joy in the good, rely on God's timing, and put hope in our splinter-free eternity.