My older daughter had braces put on her teeth today. I thought we were headed to the orthodontist for a quick consultation, but to my surprise, a rare open schedule on this particular day brought with it an opportunity to fill her mouth full of metal and wires. The staff presented us with a choice: do it now or re-schedule later. Either way, we were doing this thing. Because I had no plans, and my daughter thought it fortuitous that she would miss P.E., we decided to go for it!
Actually, I am very proud of Christiana for choosing to begin the grueling eighteen month long process of tug-of-war on her teeth. Truly, the decision took a fair amount of fortitude on her part. She often procrastinates and has zero tolerance for pain. Since the day she was born, she has cried every day of her life. I fill my prayer time by begging God to give me the patience to endure it and to work with her to build both the relationship I have with her, as well as the one she has with her heavenly Father. She is tender-hearted and sensitive but also full of angst and sadness. And because she is in Middle School, her perspective on life in general is a little skewed, to say the least. I love her madly, and I see glimpses occasionally of the woman she will one day become. Today's bravery ranks as one of those, and I made sure to congratulate her on such a grown-up decision.
Of course, tonight her eyes brim with tears, and through the mumbling of clenched jaws, I cannot understand a word she says. I gather, however, that she is starving and can neither do her homework nor go to sleep. Two steps forward. One step back.
Romans 5:3-4: "...but we also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character, and character, hope." Suffering, at its best, is uncomfortable and at its very worst, unbearable. Regardless of our temporary perspective, however, this unpleasant sensation in us yields abundant fruit.
The first time I felt true suffering was during the labor of my first child, the very one of whom I am writing now. Breathing through the contractions, I noticed a cartoon on the wall. "
Honey", I said, "read me that cartoon. It looks funny." Anything to take my mind off the contractions.
Gavin squinted at the wall, and said, "I don't think you want me to read that cartoon."
But I persisted. "Yes, I do. Read the cartoon. NOW!"
The cartoon in question was actually a copy of the hospital's face pain chart, a handy little reference of facial expressions rated on a scale of 1-10 and designed to represent a person's felt pain. The first one depicted a perfect little happy face and the last a distorted monster of one. Not funny.
I persevered through the pain, and when my tiny baby girl was delivered into my arms, I felt an enormous surge of power. The next three times I endured labor I was able to withstand it and each time I think my character developed a little more fully because I had the hope that once again a precious little child would soon join our family.
Braces are a minor thing. She is not dying. She is not paralyzed (although she may think she is). She is not confined to a wheelchair for life. We are simply putting a little bit of pressure on her teeth in an effort to straighten things out a bit. Outwardly, her appearance will change. Inwardly, I want her to character to evolve. She is not suffering, any more than I was as I was breathing through those contractions all those years ago. But I want her to understand that this first baby step in a direction that seems uncomfortable brings with it great rewards down the line.
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