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Kaylee Page


I had really small, like itty-bitty, teeth growing up. My childhood dentist said I had the smallest baby teeth of anyone he’d ever seen. And my adult teeth sought no greater purpose in life than my babies; still as tiny as ever.

So I got myself some BIG-OLE-teeth. (said in a country-ish sort of accent, drawn out and with a giggle – as my arm does a sort of “atta boy” movement)

Because I love teeth. So much.

If you have good teeth and we are in conversation, chances are I’m just staring at your teeth, eyes squinted so as to narrow my vision in on ‘em…missing most everything you are saying. You may even find me leaning in closer to admire. It’s a tiny bit awkward and a bit of a personal space invasion (sorry, not sorry!)

So there I was, flossing my BIG FAT FAKE teeth. And when I pulled the floss out, so too came my tooth along with it. You guys, don’t let your tooth fall out if you can help it. No one should have to experience it. It was the most un-natural, uncomfortable and disturbing moment in my life. YOU GUYS, MY TOOTH FELL OUTTA MY MOUTH!

I had a knee-jerk reaction and quickly threw the tooth back up… and much to my surprise -- IT STUCK! All day yesterday I worried it was going to fall out again! (Gawd, what if had fallen out in a business meeting?? I mean, right??)

At lunch, I ordered grilled cheese and then broke the sandwich into little tiny pieces and then much like a squirrel nibbles on nuts,  I would pull my cheek out and cram in a little lump-of-a-bite to chew; afraid that any frontal bites would somehow pull the tooth out into my sandwich. And then I worried it would fall out in my sleep and that I would swallow it (but I trusted my grosser-than-anything-I’ve-ever-seen-anti-grind mouth guard to at least keep me from swallowing it.) Yesterday was not good. It was not pretty.

But I woke up this morning with my tooth un-swallowed and am sitting post-dental-appointment, tooth secured.

Thing is…. sometimes I wonder what’s going to happen when I get to Heaven and have my new body and all that. Is God gonna give me back my tiny teeth? Adamant that his design was better. Or is going to be all like: Bravo, Kaylee. Good call. I see what you did there…. and I like-it.

Truth is, I don’t know what my post-life bod is going to look like. (Hopefully it’s a little better than my post-baby bod!)

But what I do wonder is, am I going to have a say. And do I have a say NOW? To be me. To be in charge of me. Sans guilt for it.

What I mean is, recently I’ve been pondering the thought that I believe in a creative God. But there’s this thing in the church, this message we hear, that life is all about becoming like God. And I get it. I do. Since God is love. And I do want to be love.

But thing is, Doc, my seventy-five-year old counselor who FaceTimes sessions with me (not kidding!) Well when I tell Doc I’m having a hard time being Jesus, he reminds me that I can’t be Jesus because I’m not. I’m Kaylee. But I do have that little light inside me. That little light is God. And that little light is mine for the shining.

I think our God is too creative to want to just make a bunch of Jesuses in the world. I think he wants us to become more wholly, fully us, the us He designed us to be.

Jesus is my home-boy. 

Jesus is my brutha from another mutha.

However you want to say it; we have the same dad. We do.

But I’m not Jesus.

Jesus was made in God’s image. I, too, am made in God’s image and just like our little kiddos might look like us, I think both Jesus and I reflect God in our own ways.

And so as of recent , I’m on a whole path of discovering me.

For so long I felt guilt whenever I found delight in any and everything. Like makeup and dresses. Or when I discovered just how dearly I loved shaking my bootie! Or when I realized I liked bantering and silliness and that there is nothing better than a laugh so hard your stomach huuuuuurts.  Or even just the fact that I LOVE my new teeth.

But Jesus didn’t wear dresses (wellllll, wait a sec, that’s sort of up for debate I guess but I don’t think he paired the dress with heels!) And he didn’t wear make up. And there’s no account of him dancing to Shake It Off that I’m aware of . And so my life was so serious. And so limited. I thought that unless I was sitting at a sermon or giving a sermon or unless I spoke in a low boy voice, that I was failing in the process of becoming more like God. That if I found delight in “earthly” things then I was less worthy.

I don’t know. Seems like God gives us a base to start from and then says: Go forth and create! 

My parents did just that. They gave me a good base. They taught me it was better to give than receive. They taught me that love sees, love does and love bees (like the present tense of being?)

And that’s what I’m doing. I'm being me. I'm trying to be more like God. And Jesus, I see him more like a brother these days. It is through him we are heirs, right? Jesus is a good big brother. He charged the way as first born of sorts. He stands up for me. He sets a really good example for me to strive towards. And quite frankly, I like him. I like getting to sit at the dinner table with him. And together we're all part of the Love family. 

You? You too! You're part of this family. But I think there's only one of you. Like ever, in the history of man (and woman). Just you. Try to be you today, ok? 

And y’all come find me on the other side of glory, ok? We’ll see which set of teeth I get to keep!