What preschool and the dentist taught me about God

As a young child I was completely grossed out by things that were covered in holes. I got the "fingernails scraping down a chalkboard" chills whenever I saw something that was full of holes. Forget trying to make me touch it! (In fact even right this blog is giving me a slight case of the willies)

I vividly remember the event that brought this involuntary reaction to my attention. A boy in my preschool class brought a rock for Show and Tell. This rock was special enough to be worth sharing due to its being full of holes. It was from the ocean and had been the home of a lot of small creatures that were very good at burrowing.

As a rather ironic tangent I do greatly enjoy burrowing.

Anyway, this rock was passed around the Show and Tell circle and when it got to me I flipped. My mom tried to help me figure out why it bothered me to no avail but it was clear that it did.... a lot. Things like tennis rackets and fly swatters didn't seem to bother me - they were supposed to have holes in them. But things that were supposed to be solid that weren't... I couldn't handle it.

Here comes the irony --
the one that was so bothered by holes as a child now feels like she herself is full of holes and people are not supposed to be covered in (metaphorical) holes.

There are a lot of voids and divots in this life of mine (and I'm sure I'm far from the only one). The pains of life have burrowed their way under my skin and left their marks. Broken promises, screwed up parents, elementary school bullies, injustice, sickness, death, lost dreams; they have all tunneled down and left me hollow.

Left on my own I just try to cover them up. I'm incapable of filling them myself so I buy pretty sweaters or try the latest cosmetic miracle cream in hopes of making them less noticeable. For short periods of time this works, but the cavities are still there, and they still hurt like the dickens.

I had to go to the dentist recently and suddenly as I was tied down on a chair that held me upside down with a plethora of un-pleasantries fishing around in my mouth this whole mess became a little more clear. If I had tried to avoid the dentist and just brush harder the cavities that I already had would only get worse. Someone bigger than me had to step in and take over and heal where I was broken. If I tried to tell him how to do it - or fight him because it hurt - it would only slow him down and make it hurt even more. I need someone that understands me better than I know myself to fill the holes.

Unfortunately the holes can't just be filled, someone needs to go in there and clean out all the gunk - both the raw hurt of the original wound, and also all that stupid stuff I used to tried to hide them. Cleaning them out actually makes them bigger - and in my opinion its by far the worst part of the whole experience - but the filling is useless if you skip this step.

I think that is where God has me right now, he is cleaning out all of my wounds and it f-ing hurts. I am trying to let him do what He needs to do without too much complaining and I'm trusting in the fact that He knows whats best for me and that I can't fix it on my own. But it still hurts.... Good but not fun, Good but not fun.