Beth Moore, Everyday life, Family

The Hallway

It was a lengthy consultation, and the end result was a plan to say goodbye to four teeth and several (SEVERAL) thousand dollars.

Two of said teeth would be Abby’s, and the other two would be Ellie’s.

The money would be ours.

We had prepared for the latter, but the former was troubling for a number of reasons, not the least of which was that I was going to have to tell them they were having teeth yanked out.

Maybe I should rewind and clarify.

They are tender girls; prone to concern the same way their mother is. We cover our eyes when people get hurt in movies and we cry when we say goodbye for a few days. We don’t do “new” or “change” well, nor do we relish the idea of medical treatment.

When I was in junior high, my parents gave me a book about a giraffe who was afraid to have her tonsils taken out because they thought it would help me get over my fear. For the record, I still have my tonsils. And all of my wisdom teeth. But I got rid of the giraffe book. Never mind the fact that I received a cartoon book a few years before my driver’s license. Let’s not concern ourselves with labels here; tender will do just fine.

I told them about the teeth. Very nonchalantly, as if everyone did this sort of thing. They were watching carefully and I actually played it off pretty well.

It wasn’t a fantastic response, but we got through it.

Several weeks passed and the appointment was coming up, so I reminded them that this was the week that they were going to get braces and also maybehavetheirteethremoved.

There were mixed emotions. Some excitement about the braces, some nervousness about the orthodontist chairs and tools, and a whole lot of talking through different scenarios.

The night before the appointment, Todd and I kissed them to bed and sat on the couch to talk about how we were going to tag-team the next day. I asked Todd how we were going to do the payment, and he explained that we were going to split it up between 2 credit cards. Because I know that some of you like your envelopes and such, I will ease your minds. We don’t keep balances on our cards, but we (read: Todd) like to get our airline miles when we can, and let’s just say “braces for twins” is a RIPE mileage opportunity.

A few minutes after this discussion, Abby came down the stairs to where we were sitting and informed us that Ellie was sitting in her bed crying. I told her to tell Ellie to come down and talk with us, and a few seconds later our red-faced, tween-ish, how-did-she-get-that-tall daughter came into the room and plopped on the couch.

Because I have an advanced degree in these matters, I took the reigns by telling her it was natural to be fearful, because for CRYING OUT LOUD THEY ARE GOING TO YANK PERMANENT TEETH OUT OF YOUR HEAD.

She listened patiently and then explained that she wasn’t afraid. Or rather, she hadn’t been before my little tirade. I had successfully paved the way for terror, so I prayed the same prayer I do many times a day, in which I ask the Lord to omit this memory from her mental scrapbook and replace it with some sort of baking adventure.

“Oh. Okay. So you’re not crying because you’re scared?” I asked. “Then what’s going on, babe?”

She hesitated. She started to speak and then her lip quivered and she tightened her mouth.

“It’s okay, hon.” Todd offered.

After two more attempts, she finally got the words, “two cards” out and we pieced it together. She had come to the edge of the stairs and had heard us discussing payment options, and she was concerned that her straight teeth were going to leave us in financial ruin.

My heart broke. She kept telling us she didn’t care about her teeth and that we shouldn’t worry about it if it was going to be that expensive. We reassured her and sent her back to bed, both of us shaking our heads. Todd, because he thought she was so thoughtful and me because who thinks about money when there’s a drill with your name on it?

In any case, we made it to the next morning and joked around the whole way over to the orthodontist’s office. Abby kept reminding Ellie how much she liked the “funny juice” when her arm was broken, so Ellie was at least looking forward to having that experience.

Before we got out of the car, I prayed for them. I asked to take a “before” picture and we all smiled like we were happy. It’s what you do for scrapbooks, right? Even though years from now we will sit around a table and look at it and I’ll tell them I was trying not to panic. And then I’ll tell them that I watched their tall legs walk themselves into the office and I had to push my feet to follow because I wanted them to be too young to open doors alone.

We made our way back to the check-in area and as I started answering the questions the woman was asking, I noticed Abby swaying side to side. The sway is the pre-cursor to the tears for her, so I kept her on my radar.

Finally I looked right at her and saw that her cheeks were hot and her eyes were a blink away from spilling over. As soon as she saw me looking at her, she crumpled her face and buried herself in my side. Ellie was trying to be tough but she wasn’t far behind.

I whispered to Abby and rubbed her back, reminding her that this was a normal thing and we were going to be just fine.

The receptionist had watched it happen, and when she saw the tears she stopped tying and looked Abby straight in the eye.

“You’re scared, hon?” she asked. Abby nodded.

“Do you ever pray when you’re scared?” she asked. Abby nodded again.

Her eyes were kind and weathered with years of watching nerves and hormones collide, and without another word, she reached her hand over the counter.

Abby lifted hers up, placing it in the woman’s.

“Dear heavenly Father,” she began. “Please help my sister to be brave. Help her know she is in good hands, and that this is a place where we pray for our patients and take good care of them.” She continued for a few moments while I mentally thanked God for this provision. I watched her fingers smoothe Abby’s hand while she lulled her with the prayer, and they both squeezed at the end.

Now we were all teary-eyed, and the receptionist asked Ellie if that was her full name. Ellie explained that no, it was short for her middle name, Elisabeth.

The woman smiled and said she had almost named her daughter that but she was afraid people might call her “Beth,” and she didn’t want that to happen because she had been teased in her childhood by a “Beth.”

I giggled, asking Ellie what she though of when someone said the name Beth. I knew what she was going to say, and we all laughed when she said, “Umm, Mrs. Beth Moore.”

“Well she sure makes me like that name more!” the woman said. I nodded. Me too, I thought. Me too.

We sat in the waiting area for a few minutes before they took the girls back, and they drank their “happy juice” while we waited. Abby had told me (and the receptionist) that her biggest fear was walking to the area where they would work on her.

She wasn’t afraid of the braces, necessarily. And she was handling the tooth-pulling thing like a champ. But the hallway-that was the part she had dreaded for weeks.

I asked the nurses if it would be okay if I walked them back and they enthusiastically assured me I could. I put one arm around Abby and the other around Ellie and made small talk as we traveled that long hall. I talked about the paint colors and the funny drawings on the wall, and they just listened.

Finally, they got into the main room and the sweet ladies told them where to sit. They climbed up in the chairs and introduced themselves, and when Abby started to say she was fine, her face betrayed her and she had to wipe her eyes again.

I didn’t want to stay too long because I didn’t want to be in the way, and also I wanted them to see that they were fine without me. I told them I would be right outside the room and if they needed anything, the ladies could come get me. Then I squeezed their toes through their shoes and gave them a big wink.

“See you soon!” I said, and slipped out the door.

They were fine. They were really fine.

At one point the nurse came to get me because Abby wanted to show me that she was doing a lot better. She certainly was doing better. She was cracking jokes about wanting to drink coffee and she couldn’t keep her eyes from crossing, so there was that.

Right before the teeth yanking (which came after the brackets were put on), they got me and Todd again from the waiting room to show us their new braces. We told them how great they looked and then went back out while they went into another room for the “extractions.”

It didn’t last too long, and they both did phenomenally. All the ladies working there told me how amazing they were, and how their manners were so incredible. I nodded thankfully, saying how proud I was of them and how grateful I was to be their mom.

It seems like a silly thing to say, but it was a hard day.

I have spent so many nights tucking them into their covers and asking God to bless them, and I couldn’t help but realize that all of it-the years, the moments, the songs, the late-night talks, the pancakes, the gum in the carpet, the pages of books and life…

It’s all a hallway.

Arms around them, stepping forward, eventually to tell them I’ve done my part and then point to where I’ll be waiting.

You’ll be fine. You’ll be more than fine.

Just get me if you need me.

I’m not leaving, I’m just going to be out of eyesight. And if you call me, I will race right back here and stroke your hair while you cry.

And if you don’t need me? Well that’s okay too. I mean, I’ll make it okay.

Because you are brave and smart and strong, just like your mommy.

One day we’ll do it, girls. We’ll spill out the pictures on the table and you’ll say, “That’s the day I got my braces!”

And I’ll smile and tell you the truth.

That’s the day I walked back down the hallway by myself, and I cried when I did.

I didn’t want you to see it, and you didn’t, but I steadied myself on the bright walls and covered my eyes with my hands. You couldn’t have understood it, but I bet one day you will.

And until then, just know this in every breath God gives you:

Walking with my arms around you has been the greatest joy of my life.


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  • Reply Courtney January 28, 2014 at 2:07 pm

    I’m a new mom, sitting on my couch while my 5 month old baby boy naps in his room, crying tears of understanding, of empathy, of encouragement, of sisterhood, (of breastfeeding hormones?). I don’t have tweens yet, but somehow, through the mysteries of life and God and parenthood, I understand. I suppose I just wanted to share with you that you sound like a wonderful Mom, and this is a beautiful story written wonderfully. From one tender heart to another, thank you for sharing it!

  • Reply kasmith03 January 28, 2014 at 2:08 pm

    Where was the “you’ll do the ugly cry if you read this” warning?! 😉 Angie you continue to bless us with your words. Thank you.

  • Reply Kathy January 28, 2014 at 2:50 pm

    Oh Angie, this is so incredibly special … I am going to share it with my two ‘tween’ daughters, who are both growing WAY too fast. THANK YOU!

  • Reply Diana January 28, 2014 at 2:55 pm

    Probably the hardest part of being a mom….knowing one day you will have to let them go…. and cry a little. I still need my mom, so I know they will always need me… but it will be so hard. What a sweet blessing that nurse was! Been missing your blog entries…. they always warm my heart… because women can always relate to each other. God sure did a reallly cool thing when he made us! You are precious!

  • Reply fibia January 28, 2014 at 2:59 pm

    Angie, I second the question about the ugly crying warning. Beautiful words, wonderful heart. Thank you.

  • Reply kellyhenderson January 28, 2014 at 3:27 pm

    This post was close to home for me. It touched me deeply as we prepare for big time orthodontics and oral surgery with our tween girl. She was born with a cleft lip and has big time dental work/surgeries ahead of her not including the 7 surgeries she’s already had. We are beginning phase one next week, it’s a 2 year phase. Her braces are like the ones I wore as a tween/teen. Bless your girls and mine! It’s a rough road being a tween Mom!

  • Reply Sarah E @The Teacher's Wife January 28, 2014 at 3:48 pm

    Oh goodness….this was beautiful. I felt like this when my son had surgery this past summer and I know I’ll feel it again as my kids continue to grow. I’m only 3 years into this, but it seems like parenthood is such a balance of protecting/sheltering and letting them go…all at the same time. Thanks for sharing, Angie!

  • Reply January 28, 2014 at 3:59 pm

    This made me cry, too. My kids are 9, 6, and 2. And I know exactly what you mean.

  • Reply JustJess January 28, 2014 at 4:48 pm

    I sit here with a picture of a child I will eventually call son. He is 7 and we will hopefully meet this summer, after a long ride on an airplane and lots of paperwork. This got me to my core today. So many things I’ll miss since we are coming into each other’s lives later but so many little moments to come. And each one will slip away, leaving me back in the hallway, watching him grow. Thank you. Tears in my eyes and I can’t wait for more.

  • Reply Aubrey Hunt January 28, 2014 at 5:44 pm

    Wow, this is a lovely, beautiful reflection… totally tearing up over here! Thank you for sharing your words (and your life).

  • Reply Nyla Wolfgang January 28, 2014 at 6:17 pm

    Thank you for your beautiful words. I have two precious little girls and I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the day I have to send them out into the world and I will be unable to follow. Ever since I first heard you speak back in October at a WOF Conference, your words have spoken to me just at the right moment. Thank you for sharing yourself. Thank you for your raw honesty. Thank you Jesus for using this wonderful woman to minister to my heart.

  • Reply Courtney January 28, 2014 at 7:25 pm

    This is so beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

  • Reply Marty January 28, 2014 at 8:13 pm

    I’ve walked some “hallways” with a couple of my kiddos, and I just have to say that this post captured those moments perfectly. Thank you so much for sharing this. 🙂

  • Reply Tessa January 28, 2014 at 9:27 pm

    Wow! You captured it! So many people have shared the bittersweet feelings of letting go when our children are growing up so fast, and yet you were able to express it in a brand new fascinating way. Thank you! LOVED THIS.

  • Reply Casey Springer January 28, 2014 at 10:14 pm

    Tears…..hugs to you all and they are such beautiful girls! What a blessing that she prayed with your Ellie!

  • Reply Kyla F January 28, 2014 at 10:43 pm

    I absolutely loved this story Angie, thank you for sharing it! 🙂

  • Reply Kimberly Compton January 28, 2014 at 10:46 pm

    I started reading this while waiting for my physical therapy appointment. I got about halfway through and started tearing up so I made myself stop because I didnt want to be bawling when they came to get me. But I finished up reading tonight with tears streaming down my face. You have such a great way with words. Thanks for sharing.

  • Reply Lisa Roeseler January 29, 2014 at 7:06 am

    This story was absolutely beautiful, Angie! You have such a precious family. Thank you for so openly sharing your life stories with us. You are a blessing, and God must be so proud of you for touching so many lives.

  • Reply Coby January 29, 2014 at 9:09 am

    Okay, this ministered to me on many levels. 1) I have had a ridiculous amount of dental work done over the last several months, with seemingly no end in sight. My response to the dentist is the same as your girls’, and their bravery is an example to me. 🙂 2) Learning to let go of my boys just a little. My twins are only 7, but I’m learning to give them moments where they learn that they are okay without me RIGHT THERE! And I’m remembering that they belong to God! This was beautiful!

  • Reply Margo January 29, 2014 at 3:38 pm

    Loved this story. I have no children, but a very tender heart. That last line just killed me!! 🙂

  • Reply Susan January 29, 2014 at 4:03 pm

    One day, I hope to write as well as you do. Thank you for sharing this wonderful story.

  • Reply Pam Kelly Moore January 29, 2014 at 4:57 pm

    Bless you Angie, I so enjoy your blog and your sharing. xo

  • Reply Bethany January 29, 2014 at 7:13 pm

    Oh this is a beautiful post! I loved reading it! =)

  • Reply The Naptime Collection - kayse pratt January 30, 2014 at 3:02 am

    […] The Hallway – Angie Smith :: This one made me cry. It’s about motherhood and bravery and holding on and letting go and telling the story. […]

  • Reply Cooking Up Faith January 30, 2014 at 3:45 pm

    It’s such a hard transition when your children become more independent. I think if children have healthy independence it’s a sign that their parents have done something right – giving them enough love and grace for the child to feel secure, knowing that love and grace are so strong that it’s still covering them when they go out on their own. 🙂

    Cooking Up Faith

  • Reply Liz January 30, 2014 at 5:23 pm

    Please listen to “When I Leave The Room” by Natalie Grant.

  • Reply shelly January 31, 2014 at 6:07 am

    Dear Angie,
    This post has me crying tears of appreciation and regret. How often do I not tell or show my children how much they are the basis of my life? Today I will. Because of you. Thank you.

  • Reply Mindy Whipple January 31, 2014 at 9:32 pm

    This is so beautiful…going to the dentist was always traumatic for our daughter (Bethany – but often called Beth). Not long after she graduated she had to have 2 wisdom teeth removed and because she is also sensitive, I put on a brave face but was so scared. Honestly, after the door closed behind her I was all prepared for her to come running out at any moment. But she didn’t. She was brave and God heard the prayers prayed. She is a young married woman now and I am so proud of her. God has made her stronger but kept the sensitive…and He is still working on me : )

  • Reply Inna February 1, 2014 at 1:08 pm

    Children are truly a blessing!

  • Reply Emily Ciz February 4, 2014 at 6:18 pm

    Awww….Ang, no pictures?!

  • Reply Jennifer Summers February 5, 2014 at 3:58 pm

    I am bawling. I’m bawling because as a mommy now, I understand it. He may be itty bitty right now (how in the world did he just turn 2?!) but I understand and when you mentioned your girls should still be too young to open doors alone, I silently thanked the Lord that my sweet boy still is. It goes so fast.

  • Reply dianacook February 5, 2014 at 6:40 pm

    You said you didn’t want to be concerned with labels…..that tender was ok. I am going to label you though….as a very gifted writer! Your words come to life as you read them. They make me laugh. They make me cry. They always make me think. Thank you for sharing your gift, your faith – and your tenderness!

  • Reply Karen February 6, 2014 at 4:07 pm

    I’m local. Do you mind me asking who the orthodontist is that the receptionist is comfortable praying with Ellie? I would love to take my crew there!

  • Reply Kathryn M February 10, 2014 at 4:46 pm

    I’m not sure if you’ll see this, but if you do, will you please jot my name down and plead with The Lord on my behalf? That I will see Him and love Him and gladly receive Him? That the things I’ve believed about myself–that I’m too prideful, too cowardly, that I don’t love grace, that I want my own authority, that I don’t even want to change–that those thoughts will be quashed? Like, today! And replaced with faith and love of truth! Sorry, I know this isn’t directly related to your post, but I also know all of your life is for Christ, so I hope you don’t mind me asking this here. Thank you.

  • Reply Kim February 16, 2014 at 8:31 am

    beautiful writing AGAIN! I laughed, I cried….this motherhood thing is so hard…..thank you for being so real! 🙂

  • Reply Tiffany Clements February 20, 2014 at 12:04 pm

    Angie, your writing is so fantastic! My little one is about to turn 2, and I’m already feeling like she can’t possibly be that old! Thank you for being so honest and real with us!

  • Reply goosh February 26, 2014 at 4:06 pm

    I was offered braces as a child and back then (in the 70s) it was an open door policy to be ridiculed at School. How times change – when my son turned 14 a few years ago, braces were “Depeche Mode” and he even picked the colours: Blue! 2 years flew by and his teeth look fab. Being in the UK we are fortunate enough to benefit from a National Health Service and so my son got his braces for free 🙂

  • Reply Lisa DeCarlo March 10, 2014 at 10:18 am

    Oh my. Just catching up during a few quiet moments of today and read your post. I feel you in the hallway. My oldest (my daughter ) just walked the hallways of what will be her high school in the fall. And I walked behind her and her friends, knowing that is where I am supposed to be. Thankful for your post!

  • Reply Susan April 19, 2014 at 12:36 pm

    I have walked many hallways with my three children over the years, orthodontics for all 3 being one of them. I joked with the Orthdontist when we brought the youngest child in, asking if they had a “buy two get the 3rd one free deal?”
    But this past weekend I just walked the ultimate hallway with my firstborn. she got married. So your words were a soothing balm to my soul “Walking with my arms around you has been the greatest joy of my life!”

  • Reply M Lombardo May 7, 2014 at 9:32 am

    oh my gosh, reading this and reliving the same experience we had just a few months ago with my tweenish gal too!! I wrote about it here…
    I love the way you put it when you said “it’s all a hallway”. So true… so many moments for us are “a hallway” as we’re both learning to let go, know that God is always with you, even when Mommy isn’t.

  • Reply Deborah Botuwell September 30, 2015 at 12:52 pm

    I was sharing today with my Facebook group, Creative Bible Study, about your study Seamless, which I’m doing right now, and giving them links to your website. Before I closed the site, I thought I would “wander around” a bit. I know that this post is over a year old now and not even sure if you still check old posts…but…Angie…you continue to amaze me and speak to me right where I am. My son is 21 and tomorrow he has a dentist appointment and I want to go with him so bad. Can I? Please! I need to be with him. You see in January of this year, the doctors found a cyst on his jawbone that has a big ugly name, but it basically was eating a hole in his jawbone and we were looking at literally cutting the bone out and replacing it with a piece of bone from his leg. God answered prayers and they didn’t have to do that, the bone is growing back by itself!! But he had to have 5 teeth removed. His smile has broke my heart all summer. He was told that he can get dentures and then in a couple of years get implants, as the bone continue to grow. He saw the cost and said, no, I’m good, I can eat just fine and it doesn’t bother me that I’m missing teeth and it cost too much. Finally, tomorrow, he is going to see about getting the dentures and I want to go with him and tell him that I’ll sell a kidney if I have to so that his smile with be back, because he refuses to smile without his teeth…well he refused to smile before for pictures…but you know what I mean. But he’s 21 and 6 foot tall, 200 pounds, lives another state away from me going to college and doesn’t need his mamma to hold his hand…but I did plan the appointment so that it was when I could go…just in case he needs me.

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