Aren’t these kids beautiful? And Christie, of course, holding the cotton candy… She’s beautiful, too. : )

Wow. I’ve been reading this book on pain (The Gift of Pain, Dr. Paul Brand & Philip Yancey), and over and over it has impressed me. I find myself repeatedly bookmarking my page then immediately sharing what I’ve read with Jeremy or I’ll lay in bed at night and consider the amazing way God has created our bodies. It’s all I can do to complete the book before doing Internet research on the chief author, Dr. Brand, and his lifelong work with leprosy patients.

Currently I’m halfway through the book and I can’t wait any longer to share some of this fascinating knowledge in Blogland. The following paragraphs reveal why Brand’s discourse on pain is so very interesting:

It took many years of research to put together a full picture, but at last I understood. Pain employs a wide tonal range of conversation. It whispers to us in the early stages: at a subconscious level we sense a slight discomfort and change position in bed, or adjust a jogging stride. It speaks louder as danger increases: a hand grows tender after a long stint at ranking leaves, or a foot grows sore in new shoes. And pain shouts when the danger becomes severe: it forces a person to limp or even to hop or else quit running altogether…

Once, back at the leprosarium, I had an abrupt encounter with a loud “shout” of pain. I was walking along the sidewalk with my eyes lifted high, searching the treetops for the source of a lovely birdsong, when crash, the next thing I knew I was lying face down on the path. I felt an instant flush of embarrassment and looked around quickly to see if anyone had seen me fall. I felt irritated, even angry. But then, as I rose to my feet and checked myself for injuries, I realized what had happened. As my eyes gazed upward toward the bird, my foot had wandered over to the edge of the sidewalk. I was in the process of putting all my weight on the foot, which hung precipitously over the concrete edge. My ankle began to twist until the tiny collateral ligament of the angle sensed itself being stretched to the breaking point. Without consulting me, that little ligament set in motion a powerful pain message that forced the immediate slackening of the major muscles of my thigh. In the more peremptory fashion, that action deprived the knee of its muscular support and it collapsed. In short, I fell…

Without this chorus of pain, a leprosy patient lives in constant peril. He will wear too-tight shoes all day. He will walk five, ten, fifteen miles without changing gait or shifting weight. And, as I had seen so often in India, even if sores break open inside his shoe, he will not limp… He [lacks] the indispensable protection of pain.

**Sarah B, I don’t know if you have internet access anymore, but I hope you get a chance to read this book. You, of all people, will understand why I find it so intriguing. Three cheers for A&P in high school. ; ) By the way, I miss you! xoxoxo