• Cynthia McCarthy

A New Kind of Wisdom

Updated: Sep 15

I struggled with whether to post this blog because it reveals so much of my personal life as a “spiritual mom.” In the end, I decided to embrace my authentic self and share this little example of what life is like in my house, no matter how weird it makes me look!


Last week, my 16 year old had her wisdom teeth removed. (No, I didn’t make a video of her high on anesthesia. I could have though—she was kind of funny that first day!) Later, when the drugs and novocaine wore off, she wasn’t funny at all. I’m sure many of you have been through this, when your almost independent, usually stubborn teenager is suddenly reduced to a helpless, pitiful toddler. I’ll admit it—I ate it up a little bit. I babied her like a champ and felt genuinely sympathetic to her situation.


Days two and three went as anticipated. The pain changed and started to increase. Days four and five were rather miserable. There was a lot of weeping and whining in the house. Most of it was from her. (Especially around two and four AM, which I did not appreciate.)


She didn’t want to reread the instruction sheet from the oral surgeon that explained how things in her mouth will tend to feel worse before they get better, and she really didn’t want to hear me preach to her about how this is the way our bodies work. It’s the way Life works (capital L) and the way Spirit works in us.


When things are healing, like the surgical sites in her mouth, it HURTS. And it sucks. (I can’t think of a nicer way to put that.) Sometimes we have to experience the pain and misery of genuine healing before we feel… healed.



In case you’re wondering, she does not appreciate the spiritual insight I’m discovering in her unfortunate situation. She also doesn’t appreciate my suggestion that she imagine the presence of God in her mouth, in her surgical sites. She doesn’t like me telling her that pain isn’t a necessity, that the pain she is experiencing might be a fact, but it isn’t a truth.



The truth is, she will get through this and heal. Our bodies are intuitively and masterfully designed to heal themselves. Incisions close up, skin grows back together, bones strengthen, tumors shrink, bruises and scars fade, and on and on. Thank God for this Truth or we’d all still be walking around with the various open wounds and broken bones of our childhood.


As I’ve told her, she can certainly choose to wallow in her pain, focus on it, and complain about it. Who could fault her for that? We’ve all had our moments like that when we are hurting—including me! But the current conditions are an effect (albeit a painful one) and Jesus reminds us to judge not according to appearances. So instead of wallowing and complaining, she can choose to realize the Truth of her body’s ability to heal, trust in her divine birthright of perfect health and wholeness, and affirm that good things are happening in her mouth. Easier said than done, but to me, it’s an option that makes sense.


Choosing to believe in and focus on the invisible healing taking place makes sense because Jesus also told us it will be done unto us as we believe. To the lower left side that hurts more than all the others, I recommended she send love to that spot, be gentle with it, and imagine and believe that a divine healing white light surrounds the area. I brought her a great guided meditation with healing affirmations to listen to and repeat. Okay, the truth is, she kicked me out of her room, but I really think my offering it to her made a difference!


Sure, to my face, she’s rolling her eyes and telling me to stop being so darn hippie-dippy woo-woo, and that’s fine. I’m used to it. The stubborn teenager is coming back to life, and that’s a good sign! But deep down, maybe when I’m not around, I think she’s listening and letting this spiritual truth soak in somewhere.


That’s all I can ask for as a hippie-dippy woo-woo mom. I just want her to have as many tools as a possible available to her in her spiritual toolbox. My job is to fill it; her job is to open the box on her own someday.



The next morning she informed me she was going to take one less ibuprofen because it wasn’t hurting as much. She was starting to feel a little better. She also requested some pasta because she was finally ready to eat something that had to be chewed.


The day after that she was able to get some French fries down. Today she finished her antibiotics and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, which leads me to believe she is ready to move on with her life and put the pain of this procedure behind her.


Spirit saw her through this, as I knew it would, and Spirit saw me through it, too.


Blessings,


Rev Cynthia

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