Common Ground

I sat in silence this morning, wishing the minutes would move faster. The large clock on the wall indicated that it had been exactly three minutes since they took Makayla back. Tick, tick, tick . . . I dried my tears, closed my eyes and began praying.

She was a woman to be admired, one of beauty and grace. She entered the office with her teenage son. I didn't notice them right away. My own thoughts kept me from paying any attention. Being taken back to sixth grade, Men at Work played over the loud speaker. "Who can it be now . . . " I rustled in my purse for a tablet of paper. Lists needed to be made - plans for the week ahead. One item was written, and then the next until it was complete.

By now she was sitting to my left, and after handing her son a ski magazine, she began thumbing through one of her own. Dressed very well, hair done up, make-up soft and professional. I wondered, like I often do, what this family was like. What was their morning like on the way in to see the oral surgeon? Was her son having a tooth pulled just like my little girl?

Moments later, her 6ft 150 lb son was called by the nurse. As the door closed behind him, I ignored my impulse to keep to myself. Something bonded us together, and I couldn't miss the chance to say so.

I don't remember exactly what I said to her. It has something to do with the fact that no matter how old they are, that doesn't change the delicate heart of a mother. Her serious demeanor melted as our eyes met. She felt understood. And so did I.

There we sat, powerless to what was going on behind closed doors. They had our children, preparing to inflict pain - all for the betterment of dental hygiene. There we sat, poised and surrendered. Doing all that we could to help our kids through some of their own hurdles, and leaving the rest to God.

I never did get her name. I'm not sure how her son is feeling after having four impacted wisdom teeth pulled. I can't help but to smile, knowing that she is probably getting just as much joy as I am through bowls of ice cream and jello.

This afternoon, my lil' punkin' is doing just fine. From one stranger to another, one mother to another - I pray that hers is too.