Life Lessons, Pandemic Lessons from the Dentist's Chair

After three hours in the dentist's chair, I was finally free and heading to work. As I turned out of the parking lot I felt tears pooling in my eyes. "Where did that come from," I wondered? 

I was born without one of my permanent teeth. After I lost all my baby teeth I had to have a false tooth put in--what they call a Maryland bridge. There have been several times when it has fallen out--embarrassing yes, but always able to have it repaired relatively quickly. Probably the biggest concern I had was eating corn on the cob.

Several years ago when having it repaired, the dentist suggested I consider having a permanent bridge put in and use it as an opportunity to fix the way the rest of my teeth looked. They're different sizes, different shapes, and different shades. He gave me a quote and I giggled. We had three children in private school, one in out-of-state college, and cosmetic dentistry just wasn't on the list of priorities. Plus I had never been bothered by how my teeth looked. Over the past several months, or rather the last year, I wasn't giggling quite so much.

Well, that's not true. I was spending a lot of time giggling and amusing myself with far more selfies than a normal person should take (oh and I post them too). Gradually, and with the help of a few people who shall remain nameless's comments, I started to become more self-conscious (not self-conscious enough to stop taking selfies--much to my children's chagrin). It started to bother me, and I dreamed of possibly getting it fixed sometime in the wild blue yonder.

I lost the tooth again in December and the dentist again suggested we consider a different option. He also explained (and showed me) that it wasn't just the way they looked but because of their different sizes and shapes, the stress on some was beginning to cause break down in others.  I agreed to get a quote from the insurance company. Fast forward 2 months--my tooth came out AGAIN on Saturday. Early Monday morning the dentist's office called with the insurance quote. Talked to my husband and we decided to go ahead with the whole shebang. I was nervous about both the process and the cost.

I didn't ask a lot of questions about the procedure (chalk that up to being nervous--ignorance can be bliss), so imagine my surprise when he started working and suddenly I could feel big gaps in my teeth and very pointed ends. I had no idea why they were doing what they were doing, but I trusted the end result would be okay. Well, that's not exactly true--he kept saying, "This is just temporary until your permanent bridge comes in in a couple of weeks." I started to have doubts about what I would look like when I walked out of the office that day. (Y'all, I'm pretty transparent and easy-going--I walked around with a monogrammed catheter bag for crying out loud but walking out with teeth like this? That was even too much for me.) So, when he stepped out of the room for a moment my fear and doubt got the best of me. I turned to the assistant, "I'm not going to have to have my mouth looking like this for two weeks am I?" God bless her--and I mean that sincerely--she didn't burst out laughing (she did snicker). "No, ma'am. You'll have a full set of teeth they just won't look like the finished product."

So here I was leaving the dentist with my temporary bridge, which does look better than before, and tears were beginning to seep out of my eyes with the very real threat they would soon escape in torrents. What in the Sam Hill was going on with me?!?!?

Almost instantaneously it came to me (I call that the Holy Spirit)--my teeth were just an illustration of this whole last year. 

For two weeks I've been a little more worn out from the pandemic, a little more irritable, a little more morose, and if I'm honest a little more worried about what life will look like when we are all reopened and back to "normal." 

The thing is, we're not going back to normal, or at least not to the normal that was. And maybe that's not such a bad thing. Maybe what was before was good enough or we learned to live with it. Maybe before when life, institutions, relationships started to show weakness or fall out, we kept doing the same thing--you know gluing it back together and knowing it would fall out/break again. Maybe we accepted life, institutions, relationships as being "just that way" and being "good enough." Maybe the way it was put more stress on some than others causing them to break. Well, that is definitely NOT a maybe. The last year has definitely shown us over and over how many inequalities there are and how we have just let them be. Maybe, probably, definitely, we convinced ourselves the cost of making any changes to what we knew was just too high. 

And then came the pandemic--and pain--lots and lots of pain. We started to see the gaps in what we always considered good; we started to feel the sharpness, and I'll say it, the hidden ugliness of life as it was.  Please don't shun me for saying this, but maybe the pandemic with all its pain, loneliness, trauma, and yes there was so much of that and we will grieve for many years to come, but maybe it also gave us an opportunity to let go of the good enough (and let's be honest what some of us considered good enough was nowhere good enough for others) and to put in the work, the pain, the cost of changing. 

I began to understand my tears. We're still in the in-between. We're still in the temporary. We don't know

what it's going to look like on the other side of this pandemic. There is so much we don't know, but we also have the opportunity--the opportunity to do and be something different--something better, something more solid, something more beautiful--something more beautiful for the whole world. 

I so want to be on the other side of this. I want to know what the world will look like, and I want the world to be better than it has ever been. But for now, we have to just keep putting in the work and trusting that together and with God's direction, the world can emerge better, stronger, and more dazzling for all.