Recovery

Balin is recovering. He has nests in several rooms here at my moms house. He has the movie nest in the media room where we slept last night. He has a nest on the couch in another room where he can "be where the talking is."( Don't we all crave community? ) He lies in his nests and every once in a while I move him to the next one, or carry him to the bathroom.  He has two incisions from surgery. Although smaller than his last surgery, they both ache, and to see them, for him, is worse. He panics that he will see something ugly. Something bloody.  I think about this book I am reading and the soul holes. I think about sin and recovery. How sometimes, it is the very sight of our sin that is so painful. We don't want to be reminded. We don't want to risk what might be there. What if the bandages we have covering the ugly actually come off and reveal what they hide?  He clings to me and begs me not to let him see. I promise he won't. I promise him that its not like his last surgery, but fear has a way of blinding us. How many times do I beg God not to let me see. Usually its disguised in prayers for something else. Bandages. Cheaper rent. A bandage over debt we have sinfully acquired. Quiet children. A bandage over my impatience. Weight loss. Covering the void I fill with food. But as afraid as he is, I know he is healing. I know his sutures will hold. I know his scars will fade. I know the medicine works. Just like our Father, who holds us in his arms, and gives us a place of rest. He covers us with mercy so we don't have to see until he's ready for us to. Mercy. Recovery.