Not too long ago I had "one of
those days."
I was feeling pressure from a writing deadline.
I had company arriving in a couple days and the
toilet was clogged.
I went to the bank, and the trainee teller
processing my deposit
Had to start over three
times.
I swung by the supermarket to pick up a few
things
And the lines were serpentine.
By the time I got home, I was frazzled and
sweaty
And in a hurry to get something on the table
for dinner.
Deciding on Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup,
I grabbed a can opener, cranked open the can,
Then remembered I had forgotten to buy milk at
the store.
Nix the soup idea. Setting the can aside, I
went to plan B,
Which was leftover baked beans.
I grabbed the Tupperware container from the
fridge,
Popped the seal, took a look and groaned.
My husband isn't a picky eater,
But even HE won't eat baked beans that look
like caterpillars.
Really frustrated now, I decided on a menu that
promised
To be as foolproof as it is nutrition-free:
Hot dogs and potato chips.
Retrieving a brand new bag of chips from the
cupboard,
I grabbed the cellophane and gave a hearty
pull.
The bag didn't open. I tried again. Nothing
happened.
I took a breath, doubled my muscle, and gave
the bag a hearty wrestle.
With a loud pop, the cellophane suddenly gave
way,
Ripping wide from top to bottom.
Chips flew sky high. I was left holding the
bag, and it was empty.
It was the final straw. I let out a
blood curdling scream.
"I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!"
My husband heard my unorthodox cry for help.
Within minutes he was standing at the doorway
to the kitchen,
Where he surveyed the damage:
An opened can of soup, melting groceries, moldy
baked beans,
And one quivering wife standing ankle deep in
potato chips.
My husband did the most helpful thing he could
think of at the moment.
He took a flying leap, landing flat- footed in
the pile of chips.
And then he began to stomp and dance and twirl,
Grinding those chips into my linoleum in the
process!
I stared. I fumed. Pretty soon I was working to
stifle a smile.
Eventually I had to laugh. And finally I
decided to join him.
I, too, took a leap onto the chips. And then I
danced.
Now I'll be the first to admit that my
husband's response
Wasn't the one I was looking for.
But the truth is, it was exactly what I needed.
I didn't need a cleanup crew as much
As I needed an attitude adjustment,
And the laughter from that rather funky moment
provided just that.
So now I have a question for you, and it's
simply this:
Has God ever stomped on your chips?
I know that, in my life, there have been plenty
of times
When I've gotten myself into frustrating
situations and
I've cried out for help, all the while hoping
God would show up
With a celestial broom and clean up the mess.
What often happens instead is that God dances on my chips,
Answering my prayer in a completely different
manner
Than I had expected, but in the manner that is
best for me after all.
Sometimes I can see right away that God's
response was the best one after all.
Sometimes I have to wait weeks or months before
I begin to understand
How and why God answered a particular prayer
the way he did.
There are even some situations that, years
later, I'm still trying to understand.
I figure God will fill me in sooner or later,
either this side of Heaven or beyond.
Do I trust Him? Even
when he's answering my prayers in a way
That is completely different from my
expectations?
Even when he's dancing and stomping instead of
sweeping and mopping:?
Can I embrace what He's offering?
Can I let His joy adjust my attitude?
Am I going to stand on the sidelines and sulk,
Or am I willing to learn the steps of the dance
he's dancin' with my needs in mind?
I'll be honest with you: Sometimes I sulk.
Sometimes I dance.
I'm working on doing more of the latter than
the former.
I guess the older I get the more I realize that
He really does know what He's doing.
He loves me and I can trust Him.
Even when the chips are
down.
