Humble Pie

This morning, my daughter had a dentist appointment to have a cavity filled. Weeks before, we talked about what the dentist would do, reasurring her it would be ok. Her older brother chimed in, "It's no big deal!"  She's acutally had a filling before, so we talked about it and then moved on. No big deal.  She seemed pretty calm and collected about the whole thing...that is until the moment she sat in the chair. 

While we sat in the waiting room, I asked if she wanted me to go back with her. "No, I'm a big girl," she replied. I asked her if she was sure, to which she nodded yes.  Soon the assistant came to get her, so I pulled out my Southern Living magazine, and before I could get past the first few pages, the assistant was calling me to come back with her.  "She wants her mommy afterall," she whispered.

I walked into the small room and held my little Muffin's hand.  She was crying and fighting the doctor with big tears rolling down her cheeks. I felt bad for her and offered reassuring words that it was going to ok. "I'm right here; there's nothing to worry about."  Her behavior then became more aggressive as she pleaded for me to take her home.  As my grandmother would say, "She showed out!"  The doctor graciously called me to the hallway, where he suggested that we send her to another dentist who could put her to sleep for her procedure.  We agreed, and in less that ten minutes we were in the car driving home.

Where at first I felt pity for her, now I felt anger. It was ridiculous to me.  She had had a filling before.  She had lived through the dreaded shot before.  I could not understand this fear and the behavior that came with this fear.  She had cried, kicked, screamed, fought the dentist, and totally ignored me.  I expected this from a 2 or 3 year old, but not an 8 year old!  I knew there would be a little pain, but it had to be done so that she would have healthy teeth.  I had sat with her and reassured her that it was going to be okay.  We had discussed this before her visit.  So why did she not trust me? Why did she not trust that even though there would be some discomfort, I would never let them hurt her?  It is an understatement to say that I was angry.

When we got home, my husband had not left for work yet. I went into the bedroom and shut the door. It was time to vent.  He listened attentively and then gently said a familiar phrase. He says this quite often, and it always makes me mad, but he is always right. (Perhaps that is why I get mad)  He said, "You can't get mad at her for being like you."  Oh, those words!!!  "What the heck are you talking about?" I asked.  And so, he began to explain his reasons, and I began to cut myself a slice of humble pie with each word. 

I admit, I do the same thing to God.  I find myself so afraid in certain situations, and when fear overwhelms me I "show out" too.  I cry; I plead for God to do something!  I don't want the discomfort, or the momentary pain.  I push people away who try to help me. I forget all the times that I've made it through the discomfort.  And when my Father tries to reassure me that he is there, I seem to have no confidence in those words. I abandon the trust that my Father will not let anyone hurt me.  All I know in that moment is fear--fear that is so overwhelming to me, but to my Father it is ridiculous.  Perhaps that is why the Bible has, I believe, 365 scriptures pertaining to fear. God knows we struggle with it, but oh how much better life is without it. How better our lives are when we trust our Father's heart, even in times of discomfort or pain! 

Lord, help me to remember what this humble pie tastes like, so that the next time I am tempted to show out in fear, I will trust instead.