Divine Irony

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This popped up in my memories today. I remember this incident all too well, along with the lesson it taught me. 

September 23, 2012

 The Set Up: It was a stressful week at work, one of several. Even my dreams were filled with stress.

The Added Crises: A job interview with a long back story. I held the position as a temp for 18 months, the longest the company would keep a temp. After several months, and a new temp position with another company, they called me to interview for permanent hire. I wasn’t selected. Now, a year later, they called me again to interview for the position. Against my misgivings, I interviewed. Which meant taking time off from my present temp position. Again, I wasn’t selected. They had a candidate in mind, but to keep the process appearing open, they called me to interview. I was angry and hurt.

The Final Straw: The coffee pot. Don’t laugh. It wasn’t funny at the time.

After so much stress, I decided to take advantage of it being Saturday and not bother fixing my hair or putting on makeup. I remained in comfy clothes. All went well until that evening.

With all the stress, my craving for carbohydrates had increased. But I discovered a fresh cup of coffee with a flavored creamer diffused my cravings. (There is something comforting about a hot beverage at the end of a stressful day.)

However, that evening, the brewer was flashing the word, decalcify. According to the owner’s manual, ignoring the warning was like disregarding the add oil light on the car. (We long ago replaced that brewer with a less complicated one.)

It was seven o’clock in the evening and one of the few TV shows I enjoy was due to come on.

I was willing to forgo my coffee with the program, but if I wanted coffee first thing in the morning, I had to clean the brewer that night. We had no vinegar, which meant a trip to the store.

The Final, Final, Straw: My husband said, “Do what ever you want.” No offer to assist. I stewed while the clock ticked.

I snapped.

Granted, I didn’t say a word to my husband, but I didn’t have to. My body language screamed plenty loud. I stomped into the living room, turned off the TV, and marched into the bedroom. I dressed, stuffed on a baseball cap to hide my unsightly hair, and stormed out to the car.

Momentary Pause: There were other options available if I would stop and think for a moment, but I saw nothing except red.

That’s about when things got a little worse.

The Irony: I left the vinegar soaking in the brewer over night, climbed out of bed at 5:30 am and ran the machine through all the suggested rinse cycles. It still flashed decalcify. I bought only one bottle of white vinegar the previous night. Nuclear explosion is a mild description of what happened next.

I’ll at least take credit for not waking my husband during my hissy fit. Partly due to deciding to purchase a cup of coffee at the grocery cafe.

It was not to be.

Their machine was in the process of being cleaned! What were the chances of that?

I was too upset at this point to bother driving anywhere else for my elusive cup of coffee. I took my vinegar and drove home.

At 7:15 am, over twelve hours after the whole drama began, I had a cup of coffee. And you know what? My anger and resentment left such a bitter taste in my mouth I didn’t enjoy it.

It was at this point God grabbed this rebellious child by the ear, sat her down, shook His finger at her and said, “Listen!”

My devotional, Good Morning Lord, by Joseph T. Sullivan pointed out that God could punish us immediately for our sins, but He doesn’t. He is patient, lovingly waiting for us to stop stubbornly insisting on having our own way. How dare we refuse to be repentant, making God wait on us. When we do return as prodigal sons and daughters, He receives us with outstretched arms. It takes time to become a loving person. “Lord, reach out and touch me.”

I lowered my head and mumbled, “Amen.”

God wasn’t through with me just yet.

Streams in the Desert emphasized we can have plenty of grace coming in, but if we do not share it, planning our life around greater service, being a blessing to those around us, then we will find our spirits uncertain and troubled [or angry?]. Triple ouch.

The Moral of the Story: His outstretched arms. Even though I misbehaved, acting out after being tested with some stress and inconvenience, He received my contrite heart with open arms. He gave me forgiveness, and strength and courage to step up to the plate and try again. He is indeed the God of second, third, and endless chances.

Amen. Amen!