Silver Teeth

Mary, over at Owlhaven, wrote a post about scars. She asked others to post about their own scars. I didn't get it posted right away, so it is long past everyone else's post, but I'm going to post anyway.

Back when I was in the 4th grade, my family moved from one small town to another. We were the new kids on the block. We lived in this rented home with a cool ramp out the back door. I'm sure it was a wheelchair accessible door, but we kids found plenty of other uses for it. That winter, on a very cold night, we found that we could pour water down the ramp and it would freeze as it flowed. This created a spectacular downhill sliding surface.

This night, my parents had guests over for dinner. As soon as the meal ended and the adults were content to sit there and talk, we slipped out the back. We needed more ice on our slope. Bucket after bucket was poured until we had one of the finest ice slides. Then the fun began. We raced one another down the ice wearing the slickest shoes we could find. Only 2 kids could race at a time and my older brother and sister were quite competitive. I wasn't getting too many turns while they practiced and had opportunity to strategize the quickest way down. Finally it was my turn again.

Greg and I poised at the top of the slope. On your mark, get set, go! I was ahead for a split second, then my brother pushed ahead. With that push I found myself falling face first onto the ice. I don't remember much after that. I do recall blood dripping down and my sister trying to keep me from going to my mom so we wouldn't get into trouble. I think my other sister went screaming to my parents and the rest is sort of blurry.

My lip was split open and it hurt pretty bad, but my parents were more concerned with my missing teeth. Our company knew of a dentist who worked emergencies. After a couple of phone calls we were in the car, off to see the dentist. I came home with two new shiny silver teeth and a fat lip. The next day, my brother found my two front teeth stuck in the ice.

Truthfully, this isn't a scar, but I wore those silver teeth like a scar. When I smiled, people were blinded by the reflection off of those two teeth. That Christmas I sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth." And I sang it until I was 18 years old. I finished my elementary career wearing those tinsel teeth. I went on to junior high and high school, sporting that metalic smile. I endured much teasing and laughter because of this scar. At times I felt like a freak. But somehow, I believe it built compassion and tenderness into my heart. Scars can be character building. They can be a reminder of what once was, or we can embrace them, knowing our Lord also has scars.



(Honestly, it is difficult to post, but I had to include a picture. This was one of my school pictures from 7th grade.)