Well okay. After having kept my two front teeth intact for decades, I discovered an amazing secret. One wrong bite hitting a hidden menace (a piece of bone) can make you feel young again - yep! About eight years old and awaiting the tooth fairy. So, okay. I felt the resistance; I heard the crack; I panicked. Whew! The tooth was still there, although where once it stood secure, now it felt loose. VERY LOOSE and PAINFUL. Did the pain bother me? Nope. What bothered me was that I had an important event to go to on the weekend and I might be toothless! Oh vanity of vanities....

Dinnertime came and I tried to avoid hitting the tooth. Every time I took a bite, it loosened up a bit more. Finally, it hung precariously in my mouth by the gum like a mountain climber who's lost his footing. I needed to see a dentist and QUICKLY.

Now I like dentist visits about as much as eating worms but emergencies are emergencies. The dentist, a cheery fellow, took an ex-ray, a quick look, and promptly informed me he couldn't do anything. He then scurried off to attend another patient who actually had an appointment and left me sitting stunned in the chair. WHAT??? HE COULDN'T DO ANYTHING??? I knew this had to be some kind of mistake. Visions of wandering the wilderness as a snaggle toothed hermit ran through my mind. How could I face civilization again?

The dentist came back in and told me to come back tomorrow. SUFFERING SUCCOTASH!

The next day he anesthetized me, pulled the broken tooth out and glued it back in. Great! There WAS something he could do! Temporarily, anyway. As it turned out, my temporary fix lasted ONE DAY. I finally lost the tooth and my pride on a hot dog, but I HAD to go to church on Sunday and meet the new people who would be there for a special event. I panicked. The REASON the dentist couldn't do anything was that his vacation was about to begin. While he was enjoying a cruise to Cabo San Lucas, I would be toothless for about two weeks. Sigh...

Trying not to despair, my husband and I went to the drugstore to see if there was anything that could glue my tooth back in without poisoning me. He had already suggested "Super Glue," a suggestion that I immediately rejected because I couldn't bear the thought of seeing my poor husband having to live life without me. Yeah right! We found something that looked like putty and the package said it was for broken crowns etc. Voila! Saved! WRONG. I was sure I had found the answer to my dilemma so I waited until church on Sunday morning to try it. My mistake. Putting the guck on the tooth, I tried fitting it back into the cavity. I pressed it until I thought it would harden and stay in. No such luck! The putty remained putty, the tooth remained unattached, and I still had to go to church with my hand over my mouth. DRAT!!!

At church, I lisped my way through the hymns, keeping a careful watch on my husband who might just be tempted to announce my "new look" to the entire congregation (I wouldn't put it past him.) Keeping my hand over the Grand Canyon, I lisped my sad story to whomever gave me weird looks or who cornered me as I was rushing to hide. When they knew, they tried to pull my hand from my mouth in a "We love you anyway" gesture. Personally, I think they just wanted to see how silly I looked (yeah, that's right. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.) Believe me, I resisted and won that battle! After that I was able to be comforted with stories of everyone else's tooth fiascos. It didn't make me feel THAT much better. They had teeth.

I had one more week to go and one more Sunday service before "Mr. Cheery" came back from vacation, so....I put all my creative energy to work in trying to figure out how to build a new substitute before I had to face another toothless weekend. Now, let's see...what was hard enough and white? Hmmm....I know! MICROWAVED BAGELS! (So, okay, I was desperate.) I cut out a piece and began to shape a tooth, squeezing it into the gaping hole. Satisfied with the fit, I microwaved it for 3 minutes. UH OH....too long. The "tooth" had transformed into a brown stone. Okay, less radiation. It worked - semi-white - until I realized I couldn't glue it in place. I thought it might stay in if I forced it in, but no. Pretty soon, even the "rock" began to soften and it was snack time. NOW WHAT? Shells! I have a bag of seashells that almost look like porcelain so I broke them in pieces with a hammer, trying to find something that would break into the shape of a tooth - almost like trying to create man out of primordial soup! I can attest to the fact that trying to make a tooth out of shell without a dentist, or man out of mud without an intelligent Creator is an IMPOSSIBILITY. I hammered away, picking through the mess until finally I had to concede defeat. I resigned myself to another toothless Sunday, and yes, this time, he did call me "Snaggles" from the pulpit. Sigh...

Why am I recounting this very embarrassing but very human experience? Because if we can laugh at life's troubles AND OURSELVES (my emphasis), we will be less apt to be easily offended, will make life easier for everyone around us and the inevitable bumps in the road will not damage our shocks. Yeah, you guys know what I mean.

As you read this, I have a temporary bridge, I have sold my three grown sons to pay for it, and I look "almost normal."