Peanut Butter

Photo by Irene Kredenets on Unsplash

It had been a long day. Six stops, five hours of running errands and grocery shopping. Then, the carrying in and putting away. I was tired to the point of almost falling down. That should have been my warning not to take on one more task until I’d rested, but I ignored it.  

Our Brittany, Cooper, takes thyroid medicine twice a day and after trying several substances to coat the pill, we found peanut butter to be the best. The brand we use doesn’t have xylitol, which the vet warned us about, but it has other additives. To avoid giving Cooper ingredients he didn’t need, I bought some pure peanut butter, nothing but ground peanuts.

When we opened the jar, the oil had separated and risen to the top. Several attempts to stir it with a spoon failed.

My hand mixer has a stirring attachment, which would be perfect to mix the peanut butter. However, rather than mix the contents, the attachment spun the jar around the counter, throwing peanut butter everywhere. The goo covered the floor, cabinets, appliances, and me. I even found some plastered against the sink on the other side of the room.  

My still-pneumonia-recovering husband announced he had to lie down and beat a hasty retreat. I suspected his motives, but gave him the benefit of the doubt. I’d rather not clean the mess either.

It took an hour to clean up the oily stuff, shower, and wash my clothes. I sank into my chair. My devotions and Bible sat on the side table - untouched. I sat in a stew of guilty thoughts the rest of the day, too numb to even contemplate reading them.

The next morning, I read these wise words from Lori Stanley Roeleveld in her devotional, Running from a Crazy Man (and Other Adventures Traveling With Jesus).

My relationship with God is not another task to complete and check off my To Do List. He understands when responsibilities and fatigue interrupt my plans for structured Scripture, meditation, and prayer. He tells me, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavily laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your soul.”

Scripture is filled with stories of how God fed and cared for his tired and discouraged servants. So, eat a meal, take a nap, read a book, watch a movie, relax, and don’t feel guilty. Prayer doesn’t have to be structured. It can be a thought, even an exhalation.

I won’t make it a habit to forego my morning devotions and prayers, but neither will I feel guilty when I don’t have the time, or engergy, to read and meditate.

Thank you, Lord, for being a loving and compassionate Father to Your Children. Amen.

 

The Almost-Divorce

Photo by bpcraddock at Pixabay

I glared at my husband. “If we had a smart phone with GPS, we wouldn’t be in this fix.”

Our fix? Trying to decipher Google Directions in an unfamiliar town at midnight after a sixteen-hour drive, exhausted, with blood sugar somewhere around the South China Sea.

My husband’s response, “We don’t need to spend hundreds of dollars on a phone.”

“But these directions are wrong, and I can’t read the map on my laptop and drive at the same time. We’re going in circles and have been for over two hours!”

“Don’t snap at me.”

I pulled into a parking lot and shoved the truck into park. “I’m calling the hotel.”

The desk clerk’s response to my request for directions, “I’m sorry, I’m new in town. Let me pull up Google Maps.”

I really, really wanted to cry.

After spending another half hour going in the same wrong circle, I pulled into a parking lot, bounced over the curb I didn’t see, rammed the truck into park, and grabbed my laptop. 

“I’m pulling up a city map, finding our location, and figuring out my own directions.” With a sob I added, “But I can’t drive, watch traffic, read street signs, and look at the map all at the same time!”

My husband didn’t reply. Instead, he slid out of the truck, marched over to the driver’s door, and yanked it open. 

“Get out.”

“I thought you were too tired to drive.”

“I’m awake now.”

“Fine!”

I stomped around to the passenger’s side and grabbed my computer. We were only two miles from the hotel — and had been for the last two hours!

If only we had a GPS…

The next morning, my son called and asked about the trip.

“Well,” I said, “We decided not to go through with the divorce.”

“That bad, huh?”

However, good can come from something bad. Two weeks after our trip, my husband announced he wanted to by not one, but two GPS systems, one for the truck and one for hiking.

I raised a brow.

His reply, “I told you we should have gotten one before we took that last trip.”

That was his usual way of saying he was wrong, and I was right.

He still won’t budge on a smart phone. If only he understood all the things they can do…

Oh, well.

When I first met the man back in 2001, he had no computer, no cell phone, not even an answering machine. We now have two laptops, two cell phones, and the recently added two GPS devices. He may yet relent on the smart phone.

However, my trust in the fallible things of this earth shattered this week, a little reminder of where my trust should lay.

A cracked valve in our geothermal unit has involved not one repair company but four different entities, and it doesn’t look like it will be fixed anytime soon, leaving us without heat or air conditioning.

I am sure God had a hand in the fact this happened now, after the heat of the summer and before the onset of cold weather. He certainly arranged for our dwindling savings account to have just enough to cover the repairs with a little left over.

So, while I may use my GPS and my other digital devices as useful tools, I need to remember they are fallible, but God is not. He’s already there in the next disaster, ready to respond with love and compassion to my faith and trust.