Holding fast

A couple days ago Amelia took a spill in the living room. Front teeth right against the coffee table, leaving chips in the wood to prove it. I was right there when it happened. I've struggled somewhat with the fact that it was I, the "monster," who roared and sent her careening, first all giggles, then all tears, into hard wood. And the feeling of dread that came an hour later after the most frantic tears subsided and Garrett found two loose front teeth is something I have not yet had to contend with as a parent. We call the dentist. Well, first I call the dentist and immediately make an appointment for an hour later.

"What did they say?" Garrett asks.

"What did they say?" I stare at him blankly.

"Do we need to even take her in? Is there anything they need to do? Or should we wait and keep our eye out for something?" This, after he has googled what to do for children with loose teeth due to impacts. I have such a level-headed husband.

"I just made an appointment. I mean, shouldn't we take her?" I consider myself rather level-headed as well. I keep calm and I'm good at comforting Amelia as my heart races and her tears flow. I don't freak out when I see blood along her gumline, and I even think to check for wiggling teeth, though my timing may have been premature (just seconds post-accident) or my touch too tentative to reveal that they were indeed loose. But when it comes to making the call--Do we go to the doctor? Do we wait it out? Should I slow down enough to ask the receptionist at the dental office if I can speak with an actual dentist?--I get flustered and indecisive. I convince myself to err on the side of caution, even though at times waiting is truly the most prudent option.

"I'll call them back." So Garrett has been in charge of dentist duty since he called them and found out that we needn't take her in right away. We should expect swelling and bruising to worsen, peaking no later than three days post-impact. After that we should see swelling and bruising subside, and hopefully, along with that, the front teeth will solidify themselves once again. It can happen. But we still need to take her to the dentist in a week or so to get x-rays to see if there is root damage or damage to the permanent teeth situated higher up in her gums. Until then she gets liquids and soft foods in bite size pieces. And we wait.

Waiting is hard.

So today I have been clinging to the one and only thing I can count on. Clinging to the one and only foundation that does not move, does not shift, does not waver. Clinging to God, who is good.

But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not tear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit. ~Jeremiah 17:7-8

How do we bear fruit for God when trials and worries turn our focus inward? My concern has been for my daughter and the potential consequences of this accident in my life and my family. A normal response, certainly, but how do I turn the my into thy? Thy will be done, thy name be praised. He is good, all the time. Despite accidents and worries of all kinds. Despite a world full of potential and real wrongs. God is good. And so I concentrate today on keeping myself rooted to the foundation of Him, planted, rooted, like the tree clinging to the stream so no worry of drought makes it droop.

This is the word that came to Jeremiah from the Lord: "Go down to the potter's house, and there I will give you my message." So I went down to the potter's house, and I saw him working at the wheel. But the pot he was shaping from the clay was marred in his hands; so the potter formed it into another pot, shaping it as seemed best to him.

Then the word of the Lord came to me: "O house of Israel, can I not do with you as this potter does?" declares the Lord. "Like the clay in the hand of the potter, so are you in my hand, O house of Israel." ~Jeremiah 18:1-6

I read this passage this afternoon and first felt no immediate application to my current state of mind, but then I read in the commentary notes in my Bible: "Just as a potter turns the wheel and shapes the clay into a useful vessel, so God uses the turning of events to shape his people. In light of the new covenant God has established with us through Jesus Christ, we can trust the master potter to work out our imperfections and gently mold us into the likeness of his Son."

God uses the turning of events to shape his people.

We can trust the master potter to... gently mold us into the likeness of his Son.

And in that moment my thoughts turn. From worry about my daughter to supplication at His throne. My concern remains, but rather than stew I now surrender. God, Healer, Father, Compassionate One... please heal my Amelia. Let there by no hidden or permanent damage. I understand a little bit more, for an instant at least, that to adopt Christ's likeness is to give thanks in all circumstances. At the last supper with his disciples, Jesus gave thanks before he distributed the bread (Matthew 26:26). He gave thanks, though he knew himself on the verge of the most horrific night in all of human history. He gave thanks. So today I give thanks. Thanks that Amelia is giggling and smiling today. Thanks that no matter what the extent of her injuries, we have access to the medical experts who can care for her. Thanks that no matter how I may feel like an anxious wreck because my little girl is in pain and discomfort and facing unknown treatment, God is still on His throne, caring for her, for me, with all love and tenderness and knowledge of what is to come. Thanks because God is God, and God is good. He hears my prayers, He collects my tears, He loves.

Today I am encouraged because the black bruising inside Amelia's lip is receding so that her gumline is pink again. I am encouraged because the swelling appears to have gone down a bit from yesterday, and this is only day two. I know there is more to be found out next week, but as of today, I am holding to the encouragement. Today, Friday evening, I am holding fast.