little again

A few weeks ago, I experienced the joy of having all four of my wisdom teeth extracted. I’d been having problems with them for a while, so it was an inconvenience I knew was necessary for my own further comfort. Everything went well & as planned until the second night after my surgery, when I woke up with incredible, throbbing pain in my mouth. I had gone home for the surgery &  I woke my dad up because I didn’t know what else to do. I later found out that I had two dry sockets (I won’t go into detail if you don’t know what that is—google it and pray you never get it)—and that whole waking up in the middle of the night feeling like someone shot me in the mouth  thing happened twice. 

 

I’m so glad it happened. 

 

Not because “it made me stronger.” I’m not one of those awesome people whose mantra states that  “pain is weakness leaving the body.” As far as I’m concerned, pain is pretty darn unnecessary and I avoid it at all costs. Hence, I was surprised after going through all these complications that I was so glad it happened.

 

—because it allowed me to be a kid again. It allowed me to wake my dad up in the middle of the night to sit next to me and comfort me while I cried and didn’t know what else to do. It allowed me to be weak and vulnerable and to be cared for by someone whom I know loves me. It was awful, but it was this beautiful release for me. I didn’t have to pretend that everything was okay. I was allowed to be a full grown woman and my dad’s little kid all at the same time.

 

—which I think is the best picture of the beautiful vulnerability we can experience with God when we allow ourselves to be his little sons and daughters. To climb up into his lap and cry because we don’t always need have it together. To mess up huge and come to Him ashamed, only to have Him gently remind us of His love and mercy—that we are and forever will be his children.