When Something is Removed: Purpose, Pain, and the Restructuring of Self

I never imagined I’d have a tooth extracted. And not just any tooth—one of my molars, not a wisdom tooth, but one that had been holding things down for decades.

There I was, unexpectedly sitting in an oral surgeon’s chair undergoing emergency dental surgery. In the days that followed, I found myself grieving. Yes, grieving a tooth. That might sound dramatic to some, but let me tell you—when something has always been there, functioning silently, showing up for you without complaint, its absence is loud.

Healing has been…slow. I’m on a soft food diet, chewing on one side of my mouth, constantly aware of the shift. I work from home, so human connection is minimal, and with the quiet comes thought. Too many, really. Thoughts about this missing tooth. Thoughts about turning 40 in just four months. Thoughts about aging, purpose, identity, and all the things I’ve accomplished—and haven’t.

And somewhere in that fog of healing, I felt depression creep in. Not because of vanity. Not because of pain alone. But because of how this one shift symbolized something deeper.

Here’s the part that hit me like divine insight:
This one tooth being removed changed the structure of something I had always known—my mouth. It forced a shift. And yet… the structure didn’t crumble.

Let me say that again: Just because something is removed doesn’t mean the entire structure crumbles.

In fact, this healing process is revealing something sacred. Sometimes, the removal is necessary to prevent further harm. Sometimes, what gets extracted—painfully and suddenly—is the very thing that gives way for something new to be built. Something healthier. More sustainable.

And isn’t that just like life?

We lose things. People. Roles. Beliefs. Status. Relationships. Opportunities. And we feel it. Deeply. The grief is real. But if we lean in—not rush to replace or cover it—we begin to see how restructuring doesn’t mean losing who we are. The essence remains. The foundation holds. We may chew differently, speak differently, even smile differently for a while, but we’re still here.

Still purposed.
Still called.
Still growing.
Still becoming.

I’m grateful to God for how He keeps me—body, mind, and spirit. For the visions that are unfolding. For the way life keeps life-ing and purpose keeps showing up anyway. There’s so much more to live. But even in the gratitude, I won’t deny the waves of emotion that came with this experience. This small, physical shift shook me more than I expected.

And that, too, is okay.

So, if you’re in a season where something has been removed—by choice or by force—let yourself grieve. Let yourself feel it. But also, be open to the restructuring. It doesn’t mean it’s over. It means something new is forming.

And maybe, just maybe, it will make room for even more alignment with the purpose God placed in you from the start.