Banana Walnut Muffins, Dentist, Unexpected Grace

I woke up Wednesday morning, actually feeling delighted to have a dentist appointment. I'd been afraid it would take too long to get in. My best guess was that what was left of the tooth I'd broken was not enough to sustain a crown, but would need an extraction. This is a thing my dentist does not do. But to schedule the extraction (and likely implant), I'd need an X-ray and a referral from my own dentist. So we could say that I went in to my appointment with my expectations quite low.

The appointment with the dentist was not until 2 p.m., so in the morning, I made banana walnut muffins, which turned out quite nicely indeed. You may see them in the photo above. The two rotten bananas in the fridge were just about the perfect amount of banana for the muffins.

My husband said he'd take me to my appointment, park in the parking lot at the dentist, and walk across the road to the Weis Market nearby. There he'd pick up a few things, including more Nardone's pizza for me, a good thing to keep on hand for a girl with a broken tooth, whose eating has been somewhat limited these past few days since it all went down.

Fortunately, there was about a two-hour break in the rain for our travels. As we pulled into the dentist's parking lot, my husband noticed a red pick-up truck parked beside us. He noted that the rear mud flap was scraping against the back tire, and said that it could be fixed quite simply with just a screw driver. Nobody was in the vehicle at the time.

So we parted ways. I went into the dentist's office, took my place in the chair. The dentist came in and looked at my tooth, and cleaned it up as best he could, and then he said, "I have some bad news." And then he confirmed my expectations: he could tidy things up a bit, and build the tooth up a little, but the tooth would need to be pulled. An implant was the most likely best path forward. I told him I'd already suspected that this would be the case; in fact, I'd contacted the folks who do the extractions and implants the day before, to ask them a series of questions.

As all of this was happening, I was looking out the window in front of me, and there was my husband's car. I watched as he got out of the car, and at the same time, a blonde lady got in and out of the red truck that had been parked next to us. The lady had a boot on her foot for some sort of medical problem.

As I watched in surprise, the lady (a complete stranger!) seemed to be handing my husband . . . toilet paper. A whole pack of toilet paper. And then another pack! "Look at that!" I said to the hygienist, "My HUSBAND is making friends in the parking lot!"

And then the dentist did his thing, and he cleaned up the tooth some more, and built it up such that there is sort of a mini-tooth in there now, that looks and feels and sounds much, much better. He filled out the referral paper, and provided an X-ray. He told me his office would fax the information to the people who will do the next round of work. I thanked him profusely for working with me to get me in so fast. "We're doing the best that we can here," I said, as I walked out.

As I went over to pay my bill, I told the lady in the front office there about the Bonfatto's hoagie I never got to eat, and how my husband "took one for the team" by finishing it for me. I asked what I owed for the 90 minutes I'd spent there. "No charge!" she said. "What?" I asked, incredulous. "No, NO CHARGE," she said. I walked out with a copy of the referral, feeling sort of puzzled.

My husband was waiting in the car, and he asked how it went. I told him how the dentist had cleaned it out and built it up. How he'd filled out the form and provided an X-ray. How they had told me there was "no charge" for my 90 minutes in the chair. He couldn't believe it!

And I asked him about the lady in the red truck, which was still there beside us. "Did that lady give you toilet paper?" I asked incredulously. "Yes, she did! Apparently it was a day for free dental care . . . and free toilet paper. I'll tell you that story in a minute," he said, as he started up the car. But before we left, he got out and briefly talked to the lady in the truck. We began our journey home. And then he told me the story of the lady in the red truck.

The lady in the red truck . . . her husband died last week of a heart attack. When he fell and she tried to lift him, she broke her foot. Thus the boot. When she got out of the truck, she said to my husband, "I know that this is a strange question to ask someone you don't know in a parking lot, but could you use some toilet paper?" Her husband was a person who accumulated toilet paper. She said she had a whole ROOM full of it. So she carries it around with her in her vehicle and gives it to anybody who will accept it!

My husband - ever helpful - had told her about the mud flap and about how easily it could be fixed. Her red truck was parked there because the transmission went out on it that very day, and it could not be moved. Yes, she knows a mechanic, but the truck is still stuck there till they can deal with it. The truck was her husband's, she knows nothing about it, etc. But somehow, amid all of her calamities, she was still dispensing grace . . . and toilet paper.

The woman in the truck that my husband spoke to at the end, who LOOKED like the original blonde lady, actually turned out to be the DAUGHTER of the original lady in the truck. The daughter had shown up to help out by taking her mom to another afternoon appointment. Of course, he never even got their names.

Please, say a prayer for this poor woman (just call her "the lady in the red truck"; God will know who you mean!), who was having a far worse day, and week, and month, and year, than me. That the fates be kind to her, and that people look out for her, and that help is provided to her during her time of need, as she grapples with this series of devastating losses and challenges.

There were several gifts of grace on this day: the let-up in the rain for our travels, the free dental care (in which the dentist actually DID far more than expected), the free toilet paper, and the gift of PERSPECTIVE. Whatever I am dealing with, there are others out there who are FAR worse off than me!

I know this was a long and winding tale, but I had to tell it. Unfortunately, I had to break a tooth to earn it. But sometimes that's just the price you pay. I had selected our soundtrack song long before the dentist visit, to go with the banana walnut muffins. Here it is: Harry Chapin, with 30,000 Pounds of Bananas. And for the blonde lady in the red truck, here's another song, for this is what I hope she gets: here are the Beatles, with Help.