Generosity of Spirit

Some days end on a considerably different note from when they began. Today is such a day. I was looking forward to being pain-free for the first time in a month, with two crowns successfully cemented in place. What was supposed to take no more than a half hour in the dentist's chair took an hour and a half, and later here at home after the anesthetic wore off the pain was back undiminished. It seemed important to go back immediately, just in case a lost dental instrument needed to be removed from the gum, or someone else's tooth was accidentally cemented in place of mine. You know, routine stuff. I say this in jest, but the assistant who did most of the work this afternoon told me that yesterday my dentist had lost a crown. It just popped out of his hand and disappeared into the carpet. It never did turn up. My crown was dropped not once, but two or three times before it made it into my mouth. For all I know, I am sporting the crown they lost yesterday and mine is now gathering dust in the carpet.

Before I could make my return visit late this afternoon, I had to call all my students and reschedule their appointments. A lovely Senora answered my call to the Torres family, Grandma, as it turned out. After muttering through a clenched jaw that I wouldn't be able to teach this afternoon, she said very politely "I don't understand." It was time to try my high school Spanish.

"Yo soy la professora de musica," I began ,forgetting the Spanish word for piano.

Pause.

"Aah, piano" she said back kindly.

"Si, piano."

"Tengo dolor de cabeza" which was as close as I could come to "I have a toothache."

I could almost hear her thinking that a headache is no excuse to cancel a music lesson.

"No problemo. I will deliver the message," or words to that effect.

"Muchas gracias." "Luego."

A favorite episode of "As Time Goes By" has Jean and Lionel in Paris for a romantic weekend. When the maid asks them in French how they slept, Lionel answers "Comme un arbre." "Like a tree?" "I couldn't think of the word for log", was Lionel's answer.

The French are not known for their forgiving nature when it comes to foreigners trying to speak their language. My husband and I once tried ordering from the menu in a Parisian restaurant using our best French.

"I would like the pot roast," I said, "pot au feu".

"Quoi?"

"Pot au feu."

"Quoi?"

"POT...AU...FEU...."

"Oui, Madame, pot au feu." (Followed by a disdainful sniff.) And for the life of me I couldn't tell the difference between his pronunciation and mine. It has become a family joke in our house.

"What are we having for dinner?"

"Pot roast."

"What?"

"Pot roast."

"What?"

"POT ROAST"

"oh.....Pot roast!!!!"

Abuela Torres turned a painful drive back to the dentist into fifteen minutes of laughter as I recalled all of the above. When I walked into the reception area and picked up "Architecture Today" to finish the article I been reading that morning, (Well, really to look at the pictures I had been looking at) it was with a renewed sense that I should be patient with my dentist and not imagine him with his teeth glued together like the fox in Doctor Desoto. Kindness and generosity of spirit beget kindness.

I suppose we all need this reminder from time to time. There is no excuse not to be kind in almost every circumstance. The people in my dentist's office are unfailingly kind after all, even if they do drop teeth on the carpet. It could be that my attempt to be kind while enduring a month long "dolor de muela" is a preparation for a far more challenging time I can't yet forsee. They matter, these small events of daily life. Each in its own way is part of the larger picture of one's life which is being created like a needlepoint tapestry, one small stitch at a time. Whether that tapestry will include scenes from the lives of other people who have been encouraged by our words and actions is, I suppose, largely up to us.

I still have my toothache, but I am going to withdraw soon and pray 25 "Our Fathers" in the hope that the relatively small amount of pain I suffer now will be united with the tremendous pain Our Lord suffered and in that union be offered for some worthy good.

It's either that or I glue my dentist's teeth together.