As a child, I was utterly petrified of shots. If I had a doctors appointment, my mom would tell me we were going to the store to get some candy. Then, after I selected my precious JuJubees, she would slyly zip off to the doctors office. As we nearer the dreaded location, she would try to gently break it to me that a shot was on the horizon. I would cry and cry, but knowing I couldn't avoid it, I would follow her into the office, tears streaming down my face, snot pouring out my nose. When the doctor came in with the loaded syringe, I would squeeze my eyes shut, set my jaw and whimper til it was over.
My brother, on the other hand, would not submit as easily. He would fight like a cat backed into a corner. When it was his turn to get a vaccine, he would try to run away, flailing his arms and legs about, a crazed look on his face. It often required 3 nurses strongarming the 50lb stringbean while my mother held him in a headlock. Only then could the doctor be ensured his needle would make contact with the target.
Today in Sunday school, our pastor was talking about how God uses His chisel to form and transform us - and how often this process hurts. He said can accept it as it comes, or we can take advantage of our free will and run from it. I know God's plans for me will eventally come to pass. It just a matter of how long it takes. I don't want to fight it and extend the suffering. I'd rather buckle down and submit to my destiny. (Unless the needle is REALLY REALLY long!)