Mission Therapy

Thanks to my friend Jenna for sharing this insight today:


"There is no better feeling than having the means to support missions you believe in, be it through time or treasure, it's a natural anti-depression treatment. :-)"


When I was the grand ole age of 20, it was discovered that my genetic heart condition was more serious than previously thought, and I needed a pacemaker....like STAT! I had never had surgery in my life (unless you count being knocked out for wisdom teeth extraction) and I was freaked out! 


Detail warning! May not be for the faint of heart!


When the surgery was over I was in tremendous pain. This was in 1994 (oops, now you know my real age). Pacemakers were larger than they are now, and given the fact I was so young, my world-renowned cardiologist made the decision to place the pacemaker in a "pocket" he created within the muscle just below my collar bone. 


If you've ever seen a pacemaker in an older person, you can practically read the serial number through their skin.  In order to place mine where he wanted, he had to cut the muscle. But this would hide the pacemaker and give me some cosmetic comfort and, in the long run, allow me to live a more active lifestyle. Needless to say, all I have is the scar to flash at people when they don't believe that I have a pacemaker (works really well with airport security, btw.) 


The trade-off? MORE PAIN!


Have you ever swallowed a piece of food prematurely by mistake and you can feel it move all the way down your throat and into your stomach? Painful, right? Yeah, times that by about 100. Hello! Foreign body where it shouldn't be! OUCH!


Lying there in the hospital bed awakening from surgery I realized the intense pain. What I got for it was Tylenol with Codeine. What I needed was morphine and a shot of whiskey!! Apparently, insurance companies don't see pacemakers placed within the muscle as a standard procedure and didn't figure it was any different than the old guy in the room next door, so all I got was a wimpy drug that barely took the edge off. I don't even think the nurses had seen this procedure done before. (Remember, my cardiologist was world-renowned.) So they probably just thought I was being wimpy. 


The solution? Touch therapy. My mom, the best take-care-of-you-when-you're-sick person in the world, was at my bedside lightly rubbing and "tickling" (in a good way) my arms and legs. She brushed my hair and traced my face. And it worked. I felt a little less pain and my mom's heart was full because she was helping me feel better, even if just a little.


You see, the brain can only send out one signal at a time. Either it's telling you you're in pain, or it's telling you something feels good. And while there were still plenty of times when the pain would overpower my brain in the days following my surgery, my mom was there to at least try to confuse it a little so it would hurt less.


Imagine if we applied this principle to our lives and the lives of others in need. When we're in emotional pain, what makes it better? I am willing to bet it's when someone puts their arm around us or gives us a hug and speaks words of comfort and encouragement. Prayer and empathy (and the occasional unexpected card or flower bouquet) can do amazing things.


I can honestly say that I am my happiest when I am serving and loving others in need, be it a lonely child at the homeless shelter or my daughter when she stubs her toe. We were created to serve and love on others. Whether locally or globally, community is in our nature. We want to help others feel better!


Imagine if we applied the touch therapy principle to all areas of our lives? (Marriages, friendships, communities, and so on and on.) Emotional connections during times of strife can be just as impactful as gentle physical touch in times of physical pain. And its beneficial to both parties. Imagine that.


Maybe we can call it Mission Therapy.