Late Night, Country Dentistry

At around midnight, Mary gently woke me out of a sound sleep. “David Jude is still awake. His tooth is bothering him. He might come in.”

David Jude’s adult teeth started replacing his baby teeth a number of years ago, just as they should. His most recent casualty hung on by a thread. Before he went to bed, I asked if he wanted me to remove it. He seemed a little scared and told me that he’d be alright.

Well, he wasn’t alright. He worried that he would swallow it if it fell out in his sleep and would cause him to choke. He struggles with worry the way I struggle with anger. It’s a constant low-level battle that sometimes flares into open warfare.

Is there a dentist in the house?

Sure enough, a few minutes later I heard the pit-pat-pit-pat of little feet on the tile outside our room. A plaintive, “Dad?” confirmed the identity of my oldest son.

I got out of bed quietly and walked out to meet him. He turned to walk back to his bedroom so that our conversation wouldn’t wake the baby. Without turning on any lights, I reached out and took him by the shoulder. I pressed the back of his head against my chest with my right hand and went for the tooth with my left. I knew exactly where it was.

David Jude didn’t fuss or complain at all. He stood frozen, like a deer that that just heard a branch crack in the woods. I grabbed the tooth between my left thumb and forefinger. A little pressure popped one thread of connection. Encouraged, I tightened my grip and pulled more firmly. With a feeling like a thread snapping, the tooth came out. Country dentistry at its finest.

“Thanks, Dad. Where’s my tooth?” I handed it to him and followed him back into his bedroom. He found a place for it on the desk. I tossed him back into the top bunk, blessed him, and trundled back to the bathroom to wash the blood off my hand. It wasn’t much.

Wrestling in the night.

As I lay in bed afterwards, an old memory surfaced. 13, maybe 14 years ago, I’d had a different kind of restless night. I think it was less than a year after the encounter with Jesus that changed my life forever.

That night I wrestled with my own worry. It wasn’t a loose tooth, but I think I would have preferred something that simple. My worry, anxiety, terror revolved around being single for the rest of my life.

Despair sat on my chest that night and whispered all of my worst fears over and over. “You’ll never find anyone. You’ll be alone forever. Who could ever love you? You’re too broken. You’re garbage.” Like blows, these thoughts rained down on my mind.

I didn’t know what to do. The devil used my brokenness against me, pushing deep into every open wound and fresh sorrow. I prayed to the Holy Spirit, asking for help.

Then the image of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemane came to mind. “Not my will, but thy will be done.” I could surrender this worry to the Father. He knew my desire to be married. He knew my brokenness and need for healing before starting a relationship. I could go to Him and trust Him to take care of it.

I started to pray, “Father, thy will be done.” The thoughts and fears pounded more fiercely. “Father, thy will be done. Thy will be done, thy will be done…” I don’t know exactly how long I prayed that before suddenly, the fear, the anxiety, the despair just vanished. Like a loose tooth that when the last root comes free. I murmured a prayer of thanks before rolling over and peacefully falling asleep.

Looking back.

God took care of my worry and despair that night. And like a baby tooth falling out, there was something bigger underneath it, waiting to be revealed. God’s will HAS been done, and His will was for me to find a wonderful spouse and start a swiftly growing family.

Today, I’m celebrating my 10th anniversary of marriage to my beloved Mary. Ten years! In the middle of the night so long ago, I had no idea what good things God had in store. He didn’t tell me at the time. But He did show up. He pulled the achy tooth, gave me a hug, and sent me back to bed.

And all I had to do… was surrender.

Originally published at https://nathankrupa.com on January 14, 2022.