I step to open my bedroom closet doors and trip, again, over the television cable cord that runs across the carpet. A cord that was never there until just a week or two ago when life got interrupted. A cord that has made peace and strife simultaneously.
Peace in having the television not in my living room, even it meant running a long cord from the only cable outlet in the upper level of my home, across a hallway and into a bedroom my son is occupying. Strife in having to deal with a long cable cord running from my bedroom, through a hallway and into a bedroom that turned into a grandchildren’s playroom years ago, but now occupied by my adult son.
I feel the inner turmoil of resentment rising up through clenched stomach muscles and then finally released in hands scrambling to get the cord unscrewed from it’s house in the wall.
And then I march a few steps into the hallway and chuck it, the cord landing in the dark room where my adult son is currently still sleeping. A room he only recently began to occupy when his last roommate situation dissolved.
I turn away from the clothes covered floor, and from the television mounted on a bureau that once was with pictures and grandchildren’s toys. And slam the door.
Not one of my finer moments.
Seconds later standing in front of my open bedroom closet, free now of any obstacles to trip over, I take a deep breath. Blow it out. Feel the guilt sink in over losing my patience over something so small.
Life has been interrupted. And I’m tripping over the inconvenience.
But he is safe.
He is alive.
And there is still hope that the situation will change.
I think of a 16 year-old recently perishing in a car accident in his home town. I think of a family losing their father not yet turned 50 years of age, and another losing her son that is the same age as my eldest daughter. I can actually think of two in the latter category.
I think of a brother and sister ‘n law who both battled cancer these last couple of years.
I think of my best-friend who lost her 4 year battle with breast cancer in April 2015, her three children and husband still managing all the firsts this year–first Christmas, birthdays, Easter, without her.
I take another deep breath in.
Let it out, slower this time.
It is just a breath of a moment, this inconvenience.
I think of the weekly travels to the pediatric orthopedic surgeon to change the set of casts my baby boy wore from just a few hours old. And later the sips of water after surgeries at three and nine years old to correct his club feet. An inconvenience for him that he had no responsibility.
Dealing with an unplanned event.
I think of a bleeding woman who tried so hard to solve her ailment, one that I am sure she did not plan. She did not plan on being alone, shunned by society, and spending all she owned searching for a fix.
But God heard her and knew her need.
And He knew the exact time her healing would take place.
As the crowd pressed in on Jesus traveling to a where a daughter lay dying, the woman managed to touch just the fringes of Jesus robe and she was healed.
After years of striving, to try to fix, she reached out to Him at the perfect time and is healed.
But Jesus said, “Someone touched me, for I perceive that power has gone out from me.” And when the woman saw that she was not hidden, she came trembling, and falling down before him declared in the presence of all the people why she had touched him, and how she had been immediately healed. And he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has made you well; go in peace.” Luke 8: 44-48
And I wonder, how often have I tried to fix something before it’s time? How often has God proven to me over and over that I need not to fret, I need not to be angry, frustrated?
And during those times of fretting over the inconvenience, I lose the moment I have now. The moment I have with loved ones in my world.
I take a deep breath in. And let it out.
Look to the Lord and his strength; see his face always.
1 Chronicles 16:11
Then fall to my knees.
Dear Lord, I know you are there in every situation and in every moment. No problem is too small or too big for you. Forgive me for not looking to You for my peace, to steady my anxious heart and fretting mind. In this world we will have trouble, but You are a sovereign God, a loving God, patient and kind. Search my heart, Oh Lord, for any anxious thoughts and lead me in Your everlasting way.
As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:9
Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. Philippians 4:6
I know not when I shall have this cable no longer running across areas I do not prefer. I do know that this particular inconvenience, like all others, is just temporary.
And His timing, His agenda, not mine, is perfect.
And I learn again to look up to the One whose perspective I pursue.