Thoughts on Grace

I want to tell you a story.

I've been bad. I've been very, very bad. I've ignored the teachings of my elders, denied the education of my youth, and my teeth are suffering the consequence.

That's right, readers. This is a tooth story. And it's a true story. But it doesn't start at the dentist; it starts, rather, with a stuffy nose.

Twice a year (if I'm lucky), I get a really bad sinus infection. We're talking one clogged up, marathon running nose, the achingly on fire throat, and a cough that puts a smoker's to shame. And the cough strips the throat so raw that the cough just keeps coming. All of that chaos makes it difficult to sleep. No. Make that IMPOSSIBLE. Unless you have help, that is.

Now, I've learned that Delsym is wonderful (and doesn't taste so bad, either) and that Robitussen Nighttime Cough and Cold will do the trick (if you can gag it down), but it took me a few years to learn that. And by a few, we're talking more than a quarter of a century. And when you think about it, it's a long time!

Before I bought into the over-the-counter cough syrup idea, however, I enlisted the aide of an old standby: the cough drop. I'll admit that in my sleep-deprived state, I wasn't thinking too terribly clearly. The thought of choking in the night had occurred to me so I rammed that sucker up between my teeth and my cheek and closed my teeth together. I was safe. And desperation will make you do some pretty stupid things.

Fast forward to late June. Mr. V and I went to the dentist and I got the news I had feared: something would have to be done about these teeth! I've never had the best of luck with my chompers and this visit showed that some things never change.

So as I'm sitting in the dentist's chair today, I'm thinking about what a mess I've made. I confess my cough drop story to Dr. K and her assistant. "Yep, that'll do it!" they say. "Have a friend who used to pack peppermints up there like that. Sugar free from now on!" And they go about fixing me up.

After my confession and their confirmation of my huge mistake, I had some time to reflect. To think. To get some sort of bigger lesson out of this mess. Here's what I came up with:

Grace. It's an incredible gift. It's so very costly, so enormously expensive. And so reassuring. It's that big hug that you get when you messed up and feel like all is lost. It's a whisper that says "It's okay. You did you best. I know you tried as hard as you could, and that's what matters." You see, I try so hard to keep my teeth clean and in order and out of trouble. I try so very, very hard. But I've always had trouble with them and probably always will. No matter how hard I try, it won't ever be enough to fix all of the problems I have, to prevent me from messing up here and there somehow.

God knows this. God knows that, no matter how hard we try, we'll never get it right. That's why He sent Jesus. He knew we'd need Him, we'd need what we find in His perfect sacrifice. I was reminded today, sitting in such pain, in the mess I'd made of my mouth, that I do the same thing in my life. During my procedure, my husband tried to come in to squeeze my hand. He just wanted to reassure me that he loves me and that everything is going to be fine.

God sends his grace for just that. God wants to squeeze us, hug us, tell us that everything is going to be okay. We tried our best, and that's what He wants. He knows we'll never be perfect and He wants us to know that's okay. But we still need to try our best to do the right thing.

For me and my mouth, that looks like brushing for longer, using better mouth wash, and making sure to floss every single day. And this is a bit of a challenge for me because my mouth is smaller than most (or so say every dentist and orthodonist I've ever had) and it's difficult to get back there. But I need to do it. I need to try.

I need to further examine the rest of my life to see the areas where I need to try harder. His grace is enough, and I can't earn it but I can't take it for granted, either.