Choosing to Trust

I grabbed the chart and walked into the room where I met a scared 7 year old boy with a huge cut to the upper lip.

I mean this was a big ole gash.

It went through the vermilion border and I could almost see the muscle.

But I’m not daunted by large cuts.

I sat the kid down, squeezed his hand and gave him the 3 step process: numb it, clean it, fix it.

He took the news in stride. His lip wobbled a bit, but the tears were few. His parents, a genuinely nice mostly spanish speaking couple looked on in agreement.

Then I got to work.

The first part is the worst part. People lose their faith during the first part. It’s never pretty when I’m shooting up a gash with novocaine.

The second part is the cleaning part. That’s the easy part. It soothes while at the same time removes any sediment or dirt stuck in the cut. The lip’s already numb, so trust is slowly regained.

I finally get to the third part. It’s my favorite part.

I love sewing complex lacerations. They have a way of looking really bad at first, but of coming together really nicely as I place one little stitch after the next along the edges of the wound.

And this one was a baby.

Even the tech holding the kid’s head to keep him from moving nodded her approval. It’s hard not to get cocky when the tech approves of the job. But I was doing my best not to.

All of a sudden I saw the dad who hadn’t said much up until that point move up and look over mom’s shoulder. I waited for him to tell me how great the lip was coming together. He didn’t. Instead, I felt him staring. He readjusted his head, tilted his head the other direction and kept on staring.

Then he mumbled something to his wife.

Now, I’m no genius, and my spanish is just passable, but I knew from his tone that it wasn’t a compliment.

I felt a need to justify my work.

“It’s going to look great, sir. The edges are coming together beautifully”, I said.

The tech nodded again with great enthusiasm. “It’s beautiful”, she confirmed.

And I waited. Say something, I thought to myself. Instead, I felt him watching with continued disapproval. He pointed to the lip and mumbled again in spanish.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to answer. “Don’t worry about the swelling, sir, it’s because of the novocaine I injected. Once that goes down, you’ll see how pretty the lip looks”.

I was met with silence and was starting to get annoyed.

But I finished the job and knew without a doubt that this repair would be even better than I had anticipated. It was some of my best work. The tech smiled and agreed.

And it was all completely lost on the father. No matter how hard I tried, no matter what I said, all I got was the weight of his skepticism closing in on me.

Look, I get it. He’s just a father. He’s worried about his kid. He’s never walked that road before.

I get that.

But I wonder how many of us today have turned our noses at God in ignorance, assuming the worst, refusing to trust, certain we’re right, when in a matter of days, weeks, months, the result will speak loudly for itself.

And then we’ll know that the pain of the moment is only a step in the process of taking what’s broken and making it beautiful.

Trust is a choice that brings joy to the Savior. Are you trusting Him today?

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