Happy Wednesday, church family!
We have a little saying in our family, “if it’s a rare chance, it’ll happen to us”. Why? Well, we’re a rare family. I had female anatomy issues that occur in 0.1-0.5% of women. My husband Dave had a rare form of acne that occurs in less than 1% of the population (and he’s even in a medical journal!). You have a 0.13-0.19% chance of developing the eye condition my daughter Kara has had two surgeries for, and the type of hearing loss my daughter Ari has affects so few people, that there is hardly any medical research on it. So when, today, my endodontist said it looks like I may be the 2% of people who have permanent nerve damage from a root canal, I just sighed.
Don’t get me wrong, that sigh was accompanied with a lot more feeling and frustration. It’s not fair, most people who have a root canal go on their merry way without any other issues. Me? Nope. I get to be that small percentage who will most likely always have pain. Fabulous. The endodontist said there’s a slight chance it may just be slow healing, but he wouldn’t sit around and wait for that to happen. It wasn’t til I sat down to write this that I realized the parallels to this week’s sermon of waiting and suffering. OK, I know a nerve damaged painful tooth isn’t that bad, as pain goes, but let’s be honest, it sucks.
Now what? Well, I can sit around and mope. I can decide to focus on the pain daily, and constantly be irritated that it’s there. Honestly, that’s what I’ve been doing the last 2 months, and it’s not going very well. My other option is to accept that this is my new normal. It could be better, but it also could be worse. I don’t want it to interfere with life. I want to give the pain, the irritation, the disappointment, all to Jesus, and invite Him into whatever the outcome may be. I don’t want to wait for an outcome I can’t control. It seems so simple and kind of silly; this analogy of my tooth and inviting Jesus into the period of waiting, but sometimes, that’s the way it is. Also, if I practice giving Him control over the little things, perhaps it’ll be easier when the big things come along.
Jesus, I give you my tooth (that feels so weird to say!), and the nerve damage it has. I would be so happy if You were to heal it, but if this is it, I still give it to You. I give You the preoccupation, the frustration, and the pain itself. I choose to use this as an opportunity to practice inviting You in, and letting You carry it for me. I know that something like this can’t stop the plans You have for me. Bless and seal these good things, in Your name, amen.
May your week be blessed,
Lisa
