I am putting myself through laser treatments to take care of some things that have been bothering me for a while. I’m not sure what I was thinking “laser treatment” is, but for some reason I was not associating it with being burned.

Well…that’s exactly what it is…being burned.

The pain was excruciating and I told the doctor if I could have reached him, I would have punched him in the throat. He just smirked and said, “It will all be worth it when we reach the final treatment and you see the finished product. Have a good day, Mrs. Cannis. See you next time.”

I thought, “Next time?! There won’t BE a NEXT TIME!”

I cried like a baby. The burning continued for several hours. I felt like my nerves were on fire. Tylenol didn’t help (which is what they recommend for “mild” discomfort.) I have had enough medical procedures to know that when a doctor says, “You will have mild discomfort.” What he really means is, “This is going to bring you to your knees, make you whimper like a child and wonder why you ever agreed to this treatment.” The “mild discomfort” burned like hell fire.

24 hours later, I was to remove the bandages for the first time. They had warned that there may be a blister. Thankfully my hubs was a medic so I had him look at it. (Sexy, right? Not even a little.) They had given me a small needle to puncture any blistering, clean it, coat it with antibiotic ointment and re-cover.

At first glance, Chris said he counted about 15 small blisters.
“WHAT?! Why did I do this?!” The tears began to well up in my eyes and the lump was forming in my throat.

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“Um…I guess so? I don’t know? WAIT!”

“Did that hurt?”

“No.”

“Good. Only 14 more to go.”

Why am I telling you this in such graphic detail? I’m getting to that. Just stay with me.

The following day, when I removed the bandages, there were only two blisters. Hopefully tomorrow there won’t be any.

I am going through some painful things to reach the desired outcome. I have been asking myself for 2 years, “Is it worth the pain I will have to go through to get where I want to be?”

I finally decided that it was.

There will be several more treatments. I will be fortunate if it is less than 5. As the doctor told me, “Each time, it’s gets easier.”

When I had wiped the mascara from my face and regained composure, I realized that I really didn’t hate the doctor and I started thinking about what I could learn from the pain.

Upkeep on our body is costly and with age comes more expense. Some of the maintenance is chosen while some is required. Whether it’s maintaining beautiful brows, hair color, muscle tone, etc., it takes work.

Why do I think that beautifying and maintaining my spiritual life will be painless and require little to no effort?

If this temporary physical shell that I’m inhabiting takes so much work, how could I ever believe that the eternal spiritual would thrive without any attention?

I call myself a follower of Christ. I try to live like he did. I fail miserably at times, but I start over and try again. I pray throughout the day, little 1-2 sentence prayers to stay in constant communication. But when was the last time I actually set aside time to meditate and have uninterrupted time with my God?

If I am plucking my eyebrows more often than spending a few intentional moments with my Savior, I am missing it.

Just as the cool antibiotic ointment soothes my laser induced burns, time spent nurturing my spiritual being is like salve to my weary soul and heavy heart.

Are you finding the time and resources for physical maintenance while allowing your spirit to starve? Or, are you the exact opposite? I would love to hear your routines and practices for not only maintaining, but thriving from the inside out.