A Root Canal

Next week I will probably get a root canal.  I say probably because the dentist wasn't able to actually say one way or another if I for sure needed it.  But it's fairly safe to say that after 5 and a half weeks (yes, I'm counting at this point) of aching, pain, discomfort, headaches, tingling and the fact that the dentist couldn't fix it in any way, shape or form....whew.  At this point, I think it's safe to say that something is wrong.  I should probably be able to eat on the left side of my mouth.  Yet, I can't.

So on Tuesday I will go for a consultation where they will decide if a root canal is necessary.  If it is, they will do it right then and there.  I'm praying that I need a root canal.  Yes, I know.  Who does that?!?!  Me.  Because I'm sick of being in pain.  I'm sick of losing sleep because of the pain.  I'm stressed and I just want someone to be able to fix it.  My hope is that they will fix it.  I don't desire Ibuprofen to be my friend any longer.

As I've researched root canals, it appears as though they go in, dig out the pulp and make sure everything is cleaned out so that no future infection should occur.  Then they fill it in and voila!  No more pain.  In theory.  I'm hoping.

It feels like an accurate picture of what's going on in our lives right now.  There's pain.  A deep rooted, affecting all areas of our lives kind of pain.  It started out very subtle as we lived in Venezuela.  I think the stress of living in the culture really took it's toll on us.  Not to mention some really difficult relationships and hard conversations.  Add a deportation, protests and then an evacuation and you have one hot mess.  And what we need is someone to come and dig out the pain and replace it with something that will protect and restore our lives.

Unfortunately there is no such thing.  Jesus.  But Jesus does this slightly annoying thing.  He uses this subtle like trick called time.  Blah.  Time doesn't feel like my friend right now.  I want to medicate, with tv and food and lots of sleep.  I don't want to take care of my needy little people running around.  But this is our reality.  And not having a place to call home has only delayed the process of healing.

Someone asked the Swiss physician and author Paul Tournier how he helped his patients get rid of their fears.  He replied, "I don't.  Everything that's worthwhile in life is scary.  Choosing a school, choosing a creer, getting married, having kids--all those things are scary.  If it is not fearful, it is not worthwhile."

At this point I can honestly say, what isn't scary?  Trying to raise support in the midst of all of this.  Moving to Florida.  Getting settled in a totally new place.  New job, new people, new city, new everything.  And yet another transition.  It's scary.  Especially for our kids.  At this point, we wonder at times how our family is going to make it through all of this.  Tensions are high.  All of our fuses are short.  We're not very patient with each other.  It's been rough.  On all of us.  Will our marriage make it through this time?  Will our kids get to a point where meltdowns aren't the norm?  Will we see their personalities come back?  Will this forever be where our family is stuck?

"It was only when I lay there on rotting prison straw that I sensed within myself the first stirrings of good.  Gradually, it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either--but right through every human heart--and through all human hearts ... I nourished my soul there, and I say without hesitation: Bless you, prison, for having been in my life."                                                                                   -Alexander Solzhenitsyn 

This is where we rest.  Bless you, deportation, evacuation, homelessness, trials, pain, the unknown, for having been in my life.  Why?  Because I know no other way to look at things right now.  With no other choice, I look at our lives and I choose to trust that the Lord is using this time for his good.  We can't see it right now.  We can't even remotely taste it.  But here, in the midst of our pain, we wait.  Expectantly knowing that he will redeem this.  Whether it be this side of heaven or not.  We wait.  We hope.