When I was a girl, I slipped on an outdoor staircase and sliced my right hand on a broken beer bottle lying at the bottom of the stairs. I felt no pain as I had managed to sever the nerve so I did not realize how serious my wound was. One of my cousins, however, went hysterical at the sight of blood and ran for her mother, my aunt.
I was in Iowa staying with my aunt for a few weeks so I did not see my pediatrician. I saw an elderly "country doctor". He cleaned the wound, stitched me up, bandaged the wound, gave me a tetanus shot and sent me on my way with instructions to see my doctor to remove the stitches the following week when I returned home.
I remember the day I went to see my doctor. The moment he saw me, he let out a loud exclamation of disgust and shook his head. He took my bandaged hand and looked at my mother. "Who treated her? Some elderly country doctor?"
He held my hand for a moment and then sadly shook his head. He knew me well as he had been my doctor since my birth. Gently he told me that I might have to wait a bit longer before my hand healed because my injury had not been treated properly. Someone, especially a child, could not be expected to keep their hand perfectly still for a week so that was why I needed a special splint to imobilize the fingers that were above my wound.
He removed the bandage and took out the stitches. He had been right. My wound had not healed and he was going to have to start all over again. This time, in addition to stitches, he fitted me with a metal splint that kept my "pinky" and "ringfinger" bent down against the palm of my hand. While he worked on me, I sat there silently with tears running down my face. I had anticipated the removal of the stitches. I had expected that my hand would have healed but instead I had to wear an ugly and uncomfortable splint for at least another week and it was all because a critical element of my treatment had been left out.
When I returned to my doctor at a later date, he was able to remove not only the splint but the stitches as well. My hand had healed though it was not fully whole and I did bear a scar. Over time I regained the feeling in my ringfinger as well as partial feeling in my pinky. It still has a bit of numbness to this day but I have grown used to that. As for the scar, it is still visible but it has faded to the point that I would have to point it out to you. In order for it to have healed properly though, certain steps had to be taken and I also learned that the healing process cannot be rushed.
I think the same thing is true when it comes to emotional healing. Generally it is a process that can't be rushed and we are usually uncomfortable with that idea. We want to wave a magic wand and POOF! all is good and we go on our merry way. Instead we need to place ourselves in God's hands trusting that He knows the best treatment plan for us, even if we do not understand the hows and the whys behind it.
As for those of us who are standing nearby watching, we need to learn how to stop with our explanations and learn how to sit beside our friend and hold their hand while they heal.
The Lord is talking through you.