A couple of weeks ago, we had to get blood drawn from each of our kids. We are getting some tests run from a new doctor, and that requires a lot of blood work. Have you ever tried to get blood drawn from 8 and 6 year old autistic boys? Let’s put it this way: time-traveling, finding Bigfoot, and putting spandex on an octopus: all easier than getting blood drawn from an autistic boy. And we have two.

We had to sort of wrap them up in a blanket (one at a time of course) with only a head and arm exposed. Then I had to hold them totally still, in a wrap-around reverse over-the-shoulder leg scissor maneuver that would make an MMA fighter proud.

There was screaming. A lot of loud, panicked, confused screaming. Some of it was from the boys.

My wife Erin went into the waiting room where she saw an elderly woman crying. Erin asked, “Are you OK?” The woman replied, “It just breaks my heart to hear those children crying like that.”

Erin replied, “Five minutes of crying now will lead to something better for them in the future.”

Don’t we miss that lesson ourselves sometimes, fellow believers?

The Apostle Paul writes:

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal. (2 Corinthians 4:17-18)

The pain we experience in this life is described in 2 ways: light and momentary. It’s really not that bad, and the day is coming that it will all be over. You don’t know what I am going through. How can you say that? Because the glory ahead is described in 2 ways: eternal and “weighty” - it’s going to last forever, and it is going to be amazing.

How shall we compare the trials of life with the glory of heaven? We can’t. It’s beyond all comparison.

Going through a difficult trial right now? Keep your head up and your eyes on the LORD. Because five minutes of crying now will lead to something better in the future.

p.s. - only slightly stronger than an 8 year-old