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THE
BENEFITS
OF
PAIN
by
Mariane
Holbrook
While
casually
changing
channels
on
television
the
other
day,
I
stumbled
across
the
Southern
gospel
singing
group,
"The
Isaacs.
Mrs.
Isaac,
a
Jewish
convert
whose
parents
had
escaped
the
atrocities
of
Nazi
Germany,
introduced
a
song
that
her
daughter
had
written
for
her.
I
was
spellbound.
I
listened
intently
to
the
lyrics
as
Mrs.
Isaac,
her
daughter,
and
daughter-in-law
sang
their
newest
hit
on
the
newly-released
CD,
"Heroes."
It's
the
heart-cry
of
a
mother
longing
to
take
the
pain
from
her
daughter
but
unable
to
do
so.
YOURS
AND
MINE
(Daughter)
"I
hope
I
didn't
wake
you"
(Mother)
"It's
never
too
late"
(Daughter)
"My
heart
is
just
breaking"
(Mother)
"Honey,
it'll
be
okay"
(Daughter)
"I
wish
you
were
here
now"
(Mother)
"I
wish
I
was,
too"
(Daughter)
"Don't
know
what
I'd
do
without
you"
CHORUS
(Mother)
"If
I
could
take
the
hurt
all
away,
I'd
gladly
walk
in
your
shoes.
I'd
rather
it
be
Happening
to
me,
Than
you."
Several
years
ago
when
my
own
mother
twisted
in
excruciating
pain
on
her
Pennsylvania
nursing
home
bed,
I
held
her
hand,
wiped
the
beads
of
perspiration
from
her
forehead
with
a
wet
cloth,
and
begged
God
to
let
me
take
her
pain.
I
remember
praying
"Father,
I'm
younger
and
stronger,
I
can
take
it;
she
can't.
Please
roll
her
pain
over
on
me,
I
beg
you.
Please."
For
reasons
still
very
obscure
to
me,
my
mother
bore
the
pain
of
severe
head-to-toe
arthritis,
sciatica,
double
curvature
of
the
spine,
tendonitis,
bursitis
and
other
extremely
painful
illnesses
for
many
years
until
she
passed
into
the
presence
of
God
in
1996.
Today
I
know
something,
though
not
near
enough,
of
Mother's
pain.
And
I
know
the
anguish
of
watching
some
family
and
friends
who
are
suffering
beyond
belief
with
the
pains
associated
with
Multiple
Sclerosis,
Sarcoidosis,
heart
conditions
and
other
debilitating
illnesses.
Every
day
I
pray
for
them
the
prayer
of
the
Isaacs
in
their
wonderful
song:
"If
I
could
take
the
hurt
all
away,
I'd
gladly
walk
in
your
shoes,
I'd
rather
it
be
Happening
to
me
Than
you…."
How
I
wish
I
could
spare
them
the
days
of
loneliness,
the
agony
as
pain
rips
through
their
fragile
bodies.
How
I'd
love
to
be
there
to
bring
"chicken
soup
comfort"
to
those
who
struggle
mightily
just
to
get
out
of
bed
to
prepare
some
tea.
But
some
of
these
are
hundreds
of
miles
away.
All
I
can
do
is
love
them
and
keep
assuring
them
that
God
does,
too.
In
spite
of
their
prognoses,
they
are
quietly
learning
the
secrets
of
a
deeper
Christian
life
that
most
of
us
never
experience.
Perhaps
that,
then,
is
the
real
benefit
of
pain.
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