Yearly Archives: 2011

As Much Fun as a Root Canal

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Although Nate had naturally straight teeth and no cavities, our children inherited my trouble-prone mouth. Five of the seven needed braces, and they’ve endured enough fillings to put the dentist in a Mercedes.

Today I got a taste of their futures, driving to the Chicago area to visit my regular dentist. Actually there’s nothing regular about him, since he’s a specialist in root canals. Normal mouths don’t have a “regular” root canal man, and I’m not proud to say today’s procedure was my sixth.

Admittedly, the process is less of an ordeal than it used to be in the ‘70’s with those pin-like screws being hand-turned into the nerve and then yanked out again and again. Today’s specialist labored behind magnifying goggles and worked on my tooth with power tools through the eye of a microscope.

After 90 minutes of having had my mouth open, I was finally standing at the front desk with the doctor. “Here are two packets of quadruple strength ibuprofen. Take one right now. Also, I’m giving you a prescription for Vicodin, should you need it. And because we found so much infection, you’ll have to take antibiotics for a while.” He shook my hand and told me to have a nice afternoon.

I thought about my poor, battered tooth. A back molar, it had faithfully done its job without complaint until a couple of months ago when a dull ache started calling for my attention. When I didn’t respond, the ache grew worse and swelling started in the gums, along with occasional sharp pangs. While I was still thinking I hadn’t flossed well enough, an abscess had taken hold. And today the raw truth came out.

Nothing stays hidden forever. God says he’ll bring everything into the open one day, all of our secrets. Nothing escapes his notice, and eventually he’ll prove it to us by showing us (and others) what’s been going on “in the dark.” How goofy to think we could ever pull the wool over God’s eyes or sneak under his radar.

Just recently I learned a friend’s husband had taken up with a woman at his office. He’d kept the relationship under wraps until recently when, against his will, the truth came out, breaking my friend’s heart and destroying their marriage. He thought he could live with one foot in each world, keeping secrets from both women.

To live uprightly when no one’s watching is God’s challenge for all of us every day. Just as he saw my abscess hiding deep in my jaw in its early stages, he sees every choice we make and each action we take, even “in the dark.” For some, the consequences of revealed secrets may be so severe, they’ll long for the simplicity of 90 minutes with the root canal doctor.

“Woe to those who go to great depths to hide their plans from the Lord, who do their work in darkness and think, ‘Who sees us? Who will know’?” (Isaiah 29:15)

Fire-builder

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Nelson has always loved fire. I remember catching him lighting matches in his upstairs bedroom when he was about eight. “What on earth are you doing?” I said, alarmed at the prospect of a fire in our very old, all-wooden house.

“I’m testing stuff,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing what burns and what doesn’t.”

He proceeded to tell me he’d cut a tuft of his hair, which burned “real good” in a bowl and had tried to melt a plastic truck, which was “no good.” When I saw a black smudge on the closet door, I asked if he’d tried to burn that, too.

“Yup,” he said, without emotion. “I couldn’t get it to go.”

My heart was pounding, but I tried to stay calm, suggesting his experiments might be better performed outdoors. Over the years he did a great deal of that, learning valuable lessons: fire crackers can explode before you’re ready, and all burns hurt.

Now, in his thirties, Nelson is a master fire-builder, and our old stone fireplace has had inviting fires in it every evening. He loves everything about fire-building, starting with finding dead wood in the forest and hauling it home. Sawing it into log-lengths then hand-splitting it with an ax is rewarding for him, and when the fire is aglow, it’s satisfying for the rest of us, too.

Tonight the fireplace is dark, because Nelson is five time zones away at the University of the Nations in Kona, Hawaii. He’s on his way to New Zealand where he’ll start with another group of YWAM students for 12 weeks of spiritual training followed by a three-month mission outreach.

Although Nelson made sure I had a big pile of ready-to-burn wood before he left, I haven’t made a fire. I don’t get the same kick he does out of arranging, lighting and coaxing a fire into full flame, but the real reason is that he’s not here to sit in front of it with me.

On a cold winter evening, a wood-burning fire invites people to gather for conversation. Sometimes a fire’s attraction is so strong, chairs get pulled into a semi-circle around the hearth, close enough to see firelight dancing on each face.

This winter we’ve shared many meals and scores of meaningful talks in front of Nelson’s fires, beginning last September. When the house was full of family, we’d look forward to baby bedtimes, then congregate in front of the fire with ice cream or brownies, enjoying loving camaraderie at the end of busy days.

But all 14 of them are gone now, and my quiet cottage has only me in it, which is OK. Tonight I’m especially missing Nelson, who was the last to leave, just yesterday. When I got home from the airport and found his touching thank you note on the kitchen counter, I bawled like a baby.

But he’s doing exactly what God called him to do, which brings me deep satisfaction. As a matter of fact, each of my kids and kids-in-law are right where the Lord wants them. Their determination to follow his direction “lights my fire.”

And I don’t even have to go to a cold woodpile to feel its glow.

“Love is as strong as death…  Love flashes like fire, the brightest kind of flame.” (Song of Solomon 8:6)

The Best Kind of Love

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Yesterday at Walmart I was drawn to the glitter and glitz of a Valentine card display. Fantasizing about which one I might have chosen for Nate, I picked up several that said, “For my husband.” Although he didn’t particularly relate to the preprinted messages in greeting cards, he loved the words I wrote at the end and saved every one. Some he took to the office and taped to his door.

As I smiled remembering his unabashed devotion, my attention was drawn to a couple at the other end of the card rack. They had ten years on me and were nothing special to look at with his high-water pants and her 1970’s “Stretch ‘n Sew” slacks. What made me notice them, however, was their behavior toward each other. For a couple in their seventies, probably married 50 years, it was exceptional.

While I pretended to look at the cards, the two of them gradually made their way down the row, taking samples out of the rack, reading them, putting them back. She’d say, “Oh honey, look at this one. Would that be good for Sara? It’s funny.”

He’d read it and chuckle. “You’re right. That’s funny! Let’s look some more.” 

As they moved closer to me, I could hear they were hunting for grandchildren-Valentines, searching for the perfect message in each one. Most impressive, though, was the good time they were having with each other.

“Aw, look at this one. It’s so sweet, just like Anna.” The wife would agree, yet they’d keep hunting, savoring their task.

“How ‘bout this, dear? Eight cards for $4! Should we get that instead?” he’d say.

“Maybe we should buy one expensive card for each family and include the kids in those. What do you think?”

“They’d think we took the easy way out,” and he’d laugh.

These two captivated me, and I watched until my periphery vision got sore. God meant marriage to be just like them, give-and-take interest in each other’s opinion. Whether choosing a greeting card or buying a home, their M.O. would work well.

I once heard Howard Dayton, head of a financial ministry, tell the story of how listening to his wife’s point if view on an investment saved him tens of thousands of dollars. He urged husbands to seek their spouse’s opinions on money matters, even if their women had no investment savvy.

James Dobson, head of a ministry to families, agreed, counseling wives to consider their husband’s ideas whether or not it made sense at the time, because God uses husbands to funnel wisdom to wives.

Despite my not having a husband anymore, watching this older couple was delightful. They modeled exactly what the experts described. But from my vantage point, having lost my partner, I wondered how they’ll handle the grief that one day will come to one or the other when death arrives. Shared shopping trips will end, along with every other togetherness-event.

But that’s the cost of a good marriage… and it’s worth every emotional cent.

“People look at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)