I remember when I was little asking my mom if she was going to brush her teeth a litlte extra since she was heading to her dentist appointment, and she taught me that no, she wasn’t going to do anything she hadn’t been doing all along, she brushed and flossed everyday, even going so far as to invest in one of those electric brushes. Confident that she’d been doing her part throughout the days and months leading up to her appointment, it didn’t matter if a dentist was going to check her work or not. Interesting.
It seems like when changes come that we aren’t anticipating, small hardships that seem to warrant a little extra support from the heavens, that we should up our efforts, give a little more, do something extra to prove our devotion and commitment. Showing we deserve the blessings we long for. And are petitioning for.
But aren’t we doing the parts already? Or shouldn’t we? Why should anticipating a day at the dentist make us scrub a little harder and why should a little hiccup in our life’s plans suddenly cause us to look to Him in a new light? In desperation. Haven’t we been taught to brush and pray, to floss and to do our part to develop a deep and abiding relationship with Him everyday?
I notice that when a challenge shows up I’m all of a sudden face to face with myself. I tentatively look at my recent past, hesitantly assessing how I’ve been doing. And to be honest, in a really difficult time I even wonder if I can muster the energy to do more than I’ve been doing. I wonder if what I’m currently doing and have been doing is enough. I’m pretty good at brushing. And flossing. But I always kind of wonder in the deep recesses of my mind if it’s been enough. And if I need to do more.
I’ve never been great at cramming. I’m a slow and steady student. The way I am in life. But maybe there’s a pop quiz, a life issue I need immediate help with. I have to rely on what I’ve been doing, the studying I’ve made time for, the relationships I’ve developed. Oil in my lamp. Drop by drop. There isn’t a Costco gallon size available, it takes time and small but consistent contributions.
And so I hope the deposits I’ve made will be sufficient when I need to draw on them.
Because I don’t know how to pray harder than I already do. I don’t know that leaving my family to spend more hours in the temple is what’s required when what we really need is more time at our house together. I don’t know that I should sequester myself in silence for hours on end devouring the scriptures for the first time when what I really feel to do is to use them as an example of how to serve others.
A few extra swishes of that pink fluoride the morning of or an extra yard of floss isn’t going to change things when my dentist is going to be checking my teeth within the hour, and no matter how I tried to quickly rehash several chapters of my child development text as a college sophomore on the steps of the testing center with the test looming, I knew it was basically pointless. You can see this principle at work throughout our average days. We might submit to a crash diet before a wedding or wrestling weigh-in, but we know better, that it’s not healthy and won’t last. People do the same with friendships, calling only in crisis but not putting in the regular care the relationship needs. A garden doesn’t live with a once-a-month deep watering, and our souls don’t thrive with a once-a-week worship service that does nothing to change how we behave throughout the week. The principle is the same: most relationships and successes are based on small but consistent deposits and care. Not only in anticipation of a harvest or a sound report or because you might need something from a friend, but because there is comfort and peace in knowing you have done your part and there is joy along the way whether it’s the good feeling in our innards when we choose vegetables over chips, teeth that don’t ache, satisfaction from actually learning and assimilating new ideas in a college class or simply lovely memories and close, loving relationships.
But here’s what I’m learning. So maybe the dentist has some advice for us about how to cut down the tarter, and maybe I didn’t get Piaget’s stages in the right order, and maybe I asked amiss, knowing I really hadn’t been doing my part to build the relationship like I wanted. But that’s the beauty of life and learning and tests and check-ups! We get to try again! We are still here, it’s not the final!
Not only that, but He isn’t the dentist or our professor. He is merciful. All He asks is that we come to Him. Offering nothing but our contrite and humble heart. He will dismiss our negligence, remembering nothing of our forgiven past, just so grateful to have us close once again. And the other parts of life are like this too. We can change and decide we’ll brush better, study more consistently, forget the diet of the day and add carrots and the stairs. We can ask a friend we may have used or neglected if we can start anew.
So a challenging time is a blessing. Because it wakes us up. It forces us take a look at ourselves and assess where we are. And then we can feel confident that yes, we have made deposits, we have done our best to be consistent. Not perfectly. Definitely far from perfectly. But I feel that He’s accepted my small and simple devotions, that my relationship with Him is close, it’s good. And I feel that with friends and my scriptures too. I, like you, have felt the joy that comes along the way. And so even though I do feel I can do better in all facets of my learning and life and relationships, I feel like my small and simple offerings have laid the foundation, that He is no stranger, that He is as close today as He always has been. Over the years I have come to know and love and trust Him, so that in a difficult time I already have Him as my dearest ally and don’t need to brush extra now that the hygienist is calling my name.
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