Hero’s Journey

“‘I wish it need not have happened in my time,’ said Frodo. ‘So do I,’ said Gandalf, ‘and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.’” Lord of the Rings, pg. 50.

These days the simple act of stepping out of our door can lead to a hero’s journey…

“Ordinary World” 

In the middle of lockdown I had created a peaceful bubble in which I loved on my husband and son and regressed to eating comfort food from childhood on a regular basis (basically noodles with butter and parmesan). Inside my 6-year-old’s mouth a tiny war was being waged. His bottom front baby teeth were taking a firm stance and refused to vacate their posts. The adult teeth, undaunted, came in anyway, about a half inch behind the baby teeth. Many moms assured me these “shark teeth” were normal, but for me, suspicion lingered and eventually led to a telehealth appointment.

Meeting the Mentor

Our dentist has a child with ASD that prompted her to add a BCBA to her DDS, which meant she not only had empathy for me as a parent, she also had the skill set to work with my son to help him become more comfortable. A friend of mine told me she once rolled her dental tools in Cheetos dust so her daughter would allow her to put the tools in her mouth. Few people in the medical field surpass her genius.

Call to Adventure

Our virtual visit led to an in-person appointment. With a face shield, two masks, and a full-coverage gown in place, the dentist took one look behind my son’s Peppa Pig mask and said his baby teeth would have to be extracted and that he would have to go under for it to be successful. A cancellation gave us the chance to make an appointment two days later. It was the fastest I have ever made a decision involving my son with ASD, but when a pandemic looms you scramble to get what you can while you can.

I was told my son would have to go from 9:30am until 3:30pm with no milk or food. I tried to calculate in my head how many tantrums and bruises on my arm that would add up to. I was almost more worried about that part than the anesthesia and extractions. For a neurotypical kid this would be hard, but as a mom of a special needs kid there are a lot of tools missing from my tool kit when it comes to explaining and helping him understand.

Refusing the Call

I tapped out with God. I told him I had no hope of this going well and that when (not if, when, so I guess there was a mustard seed of faith there…) I got through to the other side of this, it would be all glory to Him, because I had nothing. My thoughts were dubious at best on how this would turn out.

Crossing the First Threshold

Caleb, a child whose hangry attacks lead to meltdowns, was able to make it sans food, milk, and protest from 9:30am-3:30pm (yes, all glory to God!). At one point when he was asking for food, my husband prayed for him and asked God to take the hunger away. He stopped crying and was able to be redirected. He went into the dentist’s office willing, happy and excited. Thanks to a Peppa Pig book about the tooth fairy and a social story on the dentist’s YouTube page he kept repeating “Peppa Pig, Dentist!” happily pointing to his teeth.

Tests, Allies, Enemies

The dentist’s office was where it all started to unravel. I was trying to fill out 7 pages of paperwork while standing on one foot and corralling my son with the other, trying to keep him from fleeing or tunneling through my purse for a container of cheerios, all while wrestling with an equally disgruntled pen and monitoring to make sure our masks didn’t slip below our noses. Sitting on the neatly placed, socially distanced “X’s” was outside the realm of possibility. When I finally handed in the paperwork they handed it back saying I missed a spot and my weary, pandemic-worn brain thought, “Are you kidding me?! It is 2020, put the paperwork online!” My kid chose that moment to grab his shorts, look up at me, and yell one of the most dreaded of words for parents in a pandemic— “Bathroom!”

I channeled an inner Jackie Chan I did not realize was there, kicking open doors, using the elbows and the back of my hands to produce toilet paper and turn on faucets and switches. My son reached in to touch the toilet water, wiped it on the seat, and then ran his  fingers through his hair. I watched helplessly as he lay on the floor making dust angels while I used the toilet.

Approaching the Inmost Cave

I sat with him on my legs under the hovering stare of the masked anesthesiologist. I was told to be silent so his voice would be the only voice Caleb heard. Uh, false. As someone who passes out at the mere sight of a needle. I was shocked when he actually called Caleb’s attention to it. At that moment my precious little guy used his words and said “No! No! No, thank you!”  In full rebellion mode, I whispered into his ear that it was okay and that I was with him. Then the sedation began taking effect and he suddenly slumped in my arms. Cue panic sobbing. I handed him over to Sauron and left to sit in the waiting room.

Ordeal

Sitting in my chair without a child to attend to was the most dangerous part of my journey. Doubt and fear grew like weeds from each of the 7 parent/guardian signatures that established my responsibility for what was going to happen to my child and the reminder that it could lead to death. Not a good thing to process when your son has just fallen limp and lifeless in your arms. So I pulled out my phone to write down all my thoughts about my experience so far.  “If I could give this office 0 stars I would. Disorganized, too much paperwork, unhelpful personnel…”

Reward

Then the dentist came out and knelt beside me. She wanted to explain her “process” (Cue eye roll). She told me that she made sure not to be visible to my son so he would not associate her with anything unpleasant (??!!! Uh, what about the mom? I certainly did not want to be associated with that, but please, continue…). She said during the time he was being put under, she was in her office PRAYING for him and for the procedure.

I slipped my phone with my half-written Yelp review into my bag.

Has God ever flipped the script on you? You are going along, thinking you are the hero in your very own story. Then suddenly you MEET the hero and confusion sets in. Then you look at yourself in the mirror hanging in the dentist office and realization hits–oooohhhhh. I am the fire-breathing dragon.

Tim Keller said once in an introduction to a sermon series on the Armor of God that “you can’t put your armor on in the middle of the battle.”  This woman had SUITED UP. I had not. 

She made deliberate plans to include God in her everyday process. Out of her intentionality with God came a flourishing, FRUITFUL dental practice.

I had been sporadically reaching out to God as needed in this situation. I had not intentionally sought him that morning before stepping out into my day. As a result, stress had an open invitation to settle on me and build a tall tower. 

Road Block

As I faced more trials, agreeing to two more extractions and a sealant that I had to research while she was applying it, I saw that I had my allies and enemies all mixed up. The stress I allowed in distorted my reality. It put me on defence toward the very people helping my son. I forgot that the enemy is my enemy. Period.

Resurrection

Suddenly I saw staff that were risking exposure to take their posts behind the desk and facilitate and care for each patient. As my little monkey instinctively clung to my neck, still partially sedated, they were willing to stay late with me and offered to take him to my car with a wheelchair to help me load him in. I saw an anesthesiologist with the difficult job of maintaining control so that things ran smoothly and safely. When I apologized for crying on him, I discovered he had a sense of humor.

“You know, I charge people 20% more for crying!”

“I don’t think my insurance will cover that!”

As he looked at me hunched over my son in a headlock, he asked, “Only child?”

“Yes, can you tell?”

“YES.”

Tolkien wrote Lord of the Rings between 1937 and 1949, during and following World War II. Another time period I would not have picked to live in. Out of the ashes of his own period of uncertainty, he wrote a story about resilience, camaraderie, and bravery that I am drawing inspiration from decades later.

Matthew 24 talks about end times. I hear a lot of people whispering about that amidst all we are facing today, but do you know the hope of Matthew 24? That no matter what happens, our job is to love, endure, and share the Gospel message. No matter what we see and what we face. Through earthquakes, famine, war, pestilence—no matter how bad it gets. If we are called to do it, God will give us the strength to accomplish it.

Return with Elixir

After a brief intermission at the Starbucks drive-thru, I returned home sucking down an iced coffee and sending up another prayer from inside the belly of the whale.

Lord, help me to be deliberate and intentional about putting on the full armor of God—every morning— so I am not telling the enemy to hold on one second while I run to grab my sword of Your Truth and shield of Faith. Help me be always ready to do my job of loving, enduring, and speaking the hope of the Gospel message wherever my day takes me. In Jesus’s name. Amen.