Lessons from the driver’s seat
I love how throughout scripture, the Lord uses story and analogy to help us better understand Him and His character. Of course all analogies break and fall short at some point – being that they are but dim reflections of the true Light – but they do help us to better grasp the heart of our Father. In the day to day of mothering little ones, I try to keep my eyes primed to notice and take hold of these whispering echoes of my Father’s love.
And so it was that the drive to the dentist’s office on Monday led me down a path of reflection.
As we drove, I reflected on the fact that Bella was entirely clueless of where we were going and the pain that waited on the immediate horizon.
Instead, she remained blissfully unaware in her car seat. She was a bit fussy, but I realized later that this was not due to the fact that she had some premonition of what was to come. Rather, she was fussing because her mother had unknowingly strapped her into her car seat sitting on top of a rather large plastic bunch of play grapes. (Sidenote: and here is where the analogy breaks down…our Father does not do anything to us unknowingly.)
But back to that drive. I knew very well that I was driving directly towards pain for my daughter. Pain today, a pain that would likely echo into her tomorrows. The pain of implants or temporary retainers to fill in empty gaps. The pain of stares and questions and perhaps ridicule? of a mouth that is different. I knew all of these things, and yet my foot remained on the gas pedal. I did not turn the car around. Because while I hated putting her through the pain of today, and the pain of tomorrows, I knew this was necessary for her growth and development. The current state of that tooth would impede her ability to eat, perhaps to speak, and cause all sorts of discomfort if left in her mouth. The simple fact was it needed to come out. This pain was ultimately going to work for good in her future, and make way for a healthier and more solid tooth.
But Bella…Bella knew none of these things. All Bella knew was that a simple outing with Mommy, just another trip in the car, suddenly took a turn for the worst when she got put on a chair and a man in a mask started painfully messing in her mouth.
And isn’t this often how pain comes to us? Sudden and unexpected, leaving us to question how God could possibly lead us here if He really knew what was waiting for us.
And yet He’s there. Right by our side. In this instance I was the one who held my sweet girl pinned to that chair, whispering sweet words of encouragement in her ear. I wasn’t the one inflicting the pain, although I would understand if that’s how she interpreted it, for I was the one who held her there.
But here was the most striking revelation to me. I didn’t expect Bella to just accept the pain without a cry or a complaint. Rather I expected her to cry out, I expected her to rail against the procedure. I wasn’t disappointed when she gave an angry talking to the dentist following the procedure using every consonant in her arsenal. In fact, I was quite delighted by that response.
And I had to wonder, does not our heavenly Father expect and accept the same response out of us when pain hits? Because here’s the thing…this is not how it’s supposed to be. The coming kingdom? The already but not yet kingdom? Is vanquishing all pain, all tears, all sickness, all death. We are supposed to hate these things. We are supposed to cry out – this is not as it should be!
The Psalms are full of those who beat the chest of God with anger, and grief, and confusion. And I think I gained a new understanding and appreciation for that this day. I think before I thought of God merely tolerating the weak, emotional responses of His children. I imagined him sighing and shaking His head a bit in disappointment – don’t they know and trust that I am good?
But on this day in the dentist office I saw there is room for both. There is room for weeping and wailing…while yet having trust in the goodness of the Father.
I did not mind the cries and angry rants of my daughter on this day. I merely wanted her to turn to me for comfort in her distress. To listen and know that I was there. That I loved her. That this pain indeed would have an end. The only thing that would have upset me is if she had refused to be gathered up in my arms, refused to listen to my voice. That alone would have grieved my heart on this day.
And so we packed up and left the dentist’s office. Bella fussing a bit in her car seat – because of course her mother had once again strapped her in on top of grapes – and me with a newfound glimpse into the Father heart of my Lord.
As one who has railed at God more than once, Thank You! What an amazing insight you have. I am so thankful for all He is teaching you through the blessing of sweet Bella and that you continue to share with us.