I rushed to the airport, determined to get settled in plenty of time to start writing this article. I had planned my trip home so I could have the full day to work on it. I even saved a couple of hundred dollars by purchasing a ticket that would allow another stop, another plane, and an extra few hours of travel so I would have plenty of time to write. My plans were to get settled early, get a hot latte, and begin the task of writing an article on pain.  Little did I know. 

As I went through airport security, I followed the usual routine of pulling off my belt, taking off my watch, pulling my computer out of my bag, and taking off my boots. I placed everything on the conveyer belt to have them scanned. As I was standing in the line, the lady behind me was doing the same thing. But when she pulled out her laptop, it fell out of her hands and headed to the floor.  Her clumsiness was about to change my plans for the day. 

About that time everything started to go into slow motion. As I watched in disbelief I realized—much too late—that the computer was headed straight for my foot. And before I could react it nailed my big toe, right at the base of my toenail. 

When it hit, I felt as if someone had just cut my toe off. The pain raced to my head. I broke out in a sweat, and I kicked her computer like a hockey puck across the floor as thoughts of anger and waves of pain overwhelmed me, and I started feeling faint. 

I hobbled to a seat with all my stuff and pulled off my sock to find that my toenail had already pulled away from my toe. And the pressure underneath the nail just continued to build. The redness looked like someone had just hammered my toe. She had. 

I thought I could walk it off and put it out of my mind. Instead, the pain increased. I still ordered my latte—sweating and just looking for some relief, I took a sip, but the pain was so great, it didn’t taste right. So I threw it away and hobbled to my gate, barely able to think about anything but the pain shooting through my foot. 

I got on the plane, and as we took off, I sat praying for a miracle, hoping for relief, and trying not to swear out loud. The pain just got worse. I could barely sit still. How can a toe hurt so much?  I cried as I silently cussed and held back the tears.  I didn’t care about anyone around me.  I thought only about myself.  I smiled at no one, ignored anything and everything.  And quite honestly, I was so writhing in pain, I really didn’t care whether the plane crashed or not.  I couldn’t sleep, thought no positive thoughts, and became bitter about some stupid woman that couldn’t control her own fumbling of her computer.  I then realized.  Pain changed me. 

I was amazed where the pain had taken me. It impacted every part of my life. It changed my attitude. I was short with people, and the day became very, very long. 

Things that should had been funny, weren’t. I was angry instead of happy. Because I was experiencing such severe pain, I couldn’t stay focused. I was jumpy. I was hyper. From the moment the pain hit, nothing was enjoyable. Food didn’t taste good, the coffee tasted worse, and my appetite for anything normal was replaced by a gut ache.  Important calls, schedules, and conversations were no longer foremost on my mind. The only thing that became important was relief for my pain. It became my focus, my purpose, and my sole desire. 

Here’s what I thought about.  I wondered if most of a teen’s inappropriate behavior is an attempt to stop the pain that they feel, as I noticed that many of the responses I had to pain were no different than what I see in the lives of teens around me. 

We’ve all endured times of intense pain. Perhaps you are there right now. Or maybe someone around you—perhaps your teen—is showing the same symptoms I had. 

Pain usually produces the same response in all of us. What was once important becomes irrelevant. The pain itself overwhelms every part of life, and we are focused on finding relief. My own pain produced some things in me that are not part of my normal makeup. For instance, my pain made me more sensitive to others. I noticed hurting people more than I had noticed them before. People with hurt feet, on crutches, in wheelchairs, limping. I also slowed down. 

My pain also taught me an important truth and that was that most people operate in pain. And maybe some of their outward behavior is a result of the pain that they’re experiencing in their life.  I’ve stated many times, behavior is the visible expression of the invisible issues going on in a person’s life.  

My painful episode woke me up to the fact that those around me might be “operating” in pain.  That helps me understand what is really going on in their heart as I try to deepen my relationship with them.  

We think the pain is going to last forever. Yet most pain in our lives is temporary. 

Remember 2 Corinthians 4:17? It reminds us that pain is not only temporary but also has an incredible outcome: “For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (NIV). 

But there’s another lesson here that I miss many times as a parent.  I keep pain from happening in the lives of others, and when I do, I may be keeping the lessons to be learned from happening 

C.S. Lewis states, “God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: It is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” Pain is an instrument He uses to expose who we really are and how life really is, and to bring us to a place in life where we will seek Him for answers. We all desire to run from pain, but it is in fact a tool that causes us to question our current circumstances and reevaluate our goals and motives. 

To avoid pain in your own life—or the life of your child—allows childish thinking and foolish behavior to continue. And it results in greater pain. 

I have learned that God uses pain to develop sensitivity in us and to help us grow. I realize now that by trying to avoid pain, I have sometimes gotten in the way of God’s plan, preventing Him from molding me and the people I love into the people that He desires us to be. As hard as it is to admit, my well-intentioned actions, at times, have precluded God’s work in people’s lives. 

I have learned that our attempt to lessen our children’s pain only postpones the inevitable. And when we do, the suffering comes back at a later date when the consequences of choices are greater.  

So we need to be prepared as parents to allow our kids to go through pain. And pain will come in many forms. 

Pain will come when you begin to have difficult conversations with your daughter about values.  She needs you most during these painful discussions. And if you disengage from her during this time, who is going to help her formulate those values? 

Pain will come when you confront foolish thinking—yours or your child’s.   No kids like having their foolish thinking uncovered. But that doesn’t mean you don’t do it. Lovingly confront your children, even if its painful….it’s the only way they’ll grow through their pain 

Pain will come when you and your son have conflicting ideas, when you don’t agree on his relationships, when you expose his motives, or require him to “take on more” as he becomes a man.  

Pain will come when you confront your kids regarding behaviors that are out of line or just wrong. These discussions may get a little heated.  It’s hard to confront, and even though it is sometimes painful, it is the only way that your teens will gain wisdom. 

Pain will come when parents remind their teens about their family values, what is appropriate and what is not, what is acceptable and what is not.  

Parents who understand the value of pain and conflict begin to see struggles in a new light. They begin to understand that their children are seeking answers in life, so the parents embrace the pain and struggles as opportunities to move their children to a deeper understanding about their true need for a Savior.