Last Friday I had the very harrowing, near death experience of having one of my wisdom teeth removed. Why are wisdom teeth so silly anyways? I am not even exaggerating. I spent the prior 2 weeks hearing one horror story after the next about extreme pain, liquid diets, dry sockets, blood clots, infection etc. Is it really any wonder that I was slightly petrified to have this procedure done?
Then my Pastor asks me to speak on Father's Day and I was super excited to be able to share God's word until I realized I was going to undergo major surgery on my mouth 2 days before. Yikes! Well of course that wonderful 'peace that passes all understanding' zoomed right past me and I started freaking out...just a little. I felt a level of calm returning when my friend assured me that it was a piece of cake. Apparently she had gotten all 4 of hers out in 15 minutes with no repercussions. I'm not sure I'll ever take her medical advice again. Lol!
Friday came and accompanied by my mom, sister and best friend (We definitely occupied the majority of chairs in the waiting room) I went to have this procedure done. While there I considered writing a will...but was too nervous to write. Once inside the surgeon sat and explained the details and offered me the opportunity to postpone (hindsight is 20/20 of course, should have jumped at that offer).
Well all numbed up, I sat in the cold, sterile room awaiting my fate, my very destiny as my heart thumped wildly against my chest (golly this is beginning to sound like a cheap novel). The surgeon finally returns and for the next 15 minutes tests the very mettle of my cheek, jaw and face. Now, when you can feel the roots of something being extracted from your face I say there is a problem. But yahoo I survived! By the time I left I had a massive amount of instructions to follow, my cheek was much fatter, my mouth much smaller and my wallet much emptier. I didn't do much that day but ventured out the next.
Well much activity plus recent surgery equals major swelling and I found that by Saturday night I was bearing a striking resemblance to Alvin Seville. I was freaking out again. Just a little bit hysterical as I was consumed with how everyone would view my chubby deformed cheek. Well, since I was staying over at my friend's house she reminded me that even if I looked like a chipmunk I still had to speak and it wasn't about me anyways!
Ahh the truth! Sometimes difficult to face. I got so wrapped up in the extraction that I forgot to trust God with it instead of being consumed by fear and apprehension, I got so self-conscious when I thought about people noticing how I looked and being distracted that I forgot briefly that it really was about God not about me. Good friends tend to serve as good advisors whether we want their advice at the time or not. I repented and prayed.
On Sunday I woke up in pain and still swollen and tried desperately to conjure up a new sweeping hairstyle to hide chubby cheek but decided that it wasn't about what I looked like, it was about what God was doing. What is that scripture? Humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God and He will lift you up in due time? I had to swallow my pride and you know what, God blessed me. The services went great and no one (even if they did notice) once mentioned my cheek. I was thrilled to rediscover how God takes care of His people and accomplishes his work through us when we will lay aside our own selfish ambition and take on His instead.
