Divine Irony

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

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!

I Get It

 

Image by Enrique Meseguer from Pixabay

Back when I was working temp jobs, employment seemed precarious and fraught with tough decisions. One time in particular. A month had passed since I began my temporary position, and I was still training, but in two more months, the assignment would end. Then, I'd be back job hunting. My dilemma? Should I continue to look for a job and accept one if it was offered, or wait until my current position ended?

My family pointed out the company would not hesitate to make any adjustments necessary to ensure greater profits - at my expense. Shouldn't I consider my needs first? I was not under contract, and could leave with only the customary two-week notice. Sounded like a simple choice, except two weeks would not be enough to train a replacement. Would that be ethical? I oscillated between the desire to ensure my future employment and my conscience.

After praying about the situation, I realized I didn't have to decide. I could let God do it.

 

I realize that sounds pat and trite, but I meant it in a way far different from before. Wayne Jacobsen in his book, He Loves Me!, put it well. Will I pray "Save Me!" or Glorify Your Name!"? In other words, whose interest would best be served by my decision, mine or His?

When I reflected on my previous experiences, I could honestly say I was happier walking through the flames with Him than I was skipping through the Valley of Perpetual Sunshine alone. There was an emptiness in the valley I didn't experience in the flames.

In confirmation, a gentle voice reminded me I had yet to do without the basics for survival. During the last period between jobs, I received a paycheck every single week from one source or another. It wasn't always very much, but it took care of our most important needs. And this job, I didn't even apply for it. The agency called, and I agreed to the interview. When the job was offered, I was given a dollar an hour more than what the job originally posted for. Granted, it was not as much as I was earning in my last position, yet it was enough to keep most of the financial wolves at bay.

When I am honest with myself, I understand God will not allow me to glide through life like a spoiled child, getting everything I ask for. As a parent, I know that isn't healthy, and time and again, what looked like the worst possible outcome, turned out to be far better than I imagined.

St. Paul, always a good example of unerring faith, understood this basic principle. If God intended for something to happen, God would make it so. He knew God intended for him to go to Rome, and when the big storm hit, he had enough confidence in God's promises to comfort others. The ship was wrecked, but Paul made it to Rome. Granted, he didn't float in on a grand ship. He and his fellow passengers had to swim for shore, clinging to wreckage, but he got there and fulfilled God's purpose.

The same applies to my life. If God intends for me to stay on this earth a while longer, He will provide the means for me to do so. That means food, clothing and shelter. In the past, He has paid my car insurance and taxes, even paid off large debts, using some very unconventional methods, ways I would never have conceived likely or plausible. In every instance, after much struggle and worry, and after I finally relinquished my opinion on how He should resolve the issue, the solution came. Sometimes the benefit wasn't readily apparent. I still struggle to understand some of the outcomes. These I must relinquish to His will.

My conclusion: even if my path - His path - appears choked with thorns, I can trust He will show me the way through the brambles. He will even throw in a few roses, a sunny path, or two, and some restful water along the way.

And we know that to them that love God, all things work together unto good, to such as according to his purpose, are called to be his saints. Romans 8:28  I finally get it.

If Only...

Image by Jerzy Górecki from Pixabay

When big events happened, I clung to God’s Word and found strength, comfort, and encouragement. But with smaller stressors, I didn’t apply the same level of faith, especially to job situations. I was too worried about losing the job for one reason or another and stressing over mistakes.  

My life would have been much easier with a lot less stress if I had applied the same faith to these smaller concerns as I did to the bigger ones.

Funny, now that I’m retired and have fewer things to stress over, I find it much easier to give everything to God. Has my faith grown more with life experience? Probably so. More experience has shown me all the ways God kept His promises.

I sound like St. Thomas, wanting to see before I believed.

If only that wasn’t the case…

Thank you, Lord, for being patient with me while I figure it out. Amen. 

Karma

Photo by Anastase Maragos on Unsplash

When I was younger, I loved rearranging things, furniture, kitchenware, wall hangings and the list went on. I now realize it was my way of coping with stress from my abusive first marriage. My second husband and our three kids, having no clue as to the reason behind my compulsiveness, complained, often and loud. They tired of the treasure hunt to find the silverware, the plates, pots and pans, and glassware. One night was the final straw for my sweet husband.

Insomnia plagued me for years for the same reason as my compulsive rearranging. During a particularly bad night, I snuck out of bed and rearranged the living room and family room, hoping the mental and physical exercise would tire me enough to sleep. About halfway through, I collapsed, too tired to clean up my mess. I left plants out in the middle of the room and furniture at odd angles.

Early the next morning, this exclamation from my husband levitated me from the bed. “We’ve been robbed! Wait, the TV is still here. And the stereo. Who’d steal the plants?”

By the time I sauntered into the living room, he’d figured it out. He glared at me. “You will never again rearrange furniture in the middle of the night. Understand?”

I nodded. “I promise.”

I kept that promise, but I got into trouble one other time. Home alone, I gave into another compulsion to rearrange. Believing I was being smart, I tagged all the wires on the entertainment system so I could move it and reattach everything. However, the TV was one of the large and heavy early models. I managed to roll it about halfway across the room before it tipped. I watched in horror as it landed with a loud crash and all my little tabs floated in the air like confetti. The TV survived the rough landing, but after my husband spent two hours trying to figure out how to reconnect everything his tech savvy nephew had set up, He forbid me from moving furniture, ever.

Jump thirty years into the future. The Queen of Rearranging has met her match. My current husband (I've remarried after being widowed twice) wants to move furniture every few months. That’s more than even I can stand.

However, he bribed me with a designated hobby room if I'd help move those large bookcases and his horridly heavy desk. (It’s so big and heavy, the top comes off to make it easier to move.)  It turned into a chain reaction. We ended up moving furniture in every room.  The only thing we didn’t move was the 80-inch TV. (There's some Karma in that!)

I’m tired and bruised. Add to my tale of woe, when I carried in one of the decoration boxes in from the garage, a fire ant stung my arm. The same arm the yellow jacket stung me this last summer. We don’t have a fire ant nest in the garage. I checked. In fact, there isn’t a single red ant in there, except the one on that box. I swear if there is a biting-stinging bug within fifty miles, it will find me. It’s been three days, and it still hurts. (Insert proper whine.)

Still, the new arrangements solved several issues we’ve had with the house. I shared the guest room with my art. When I wanted to sew, I had to use the dining table. We used the family room only when we had company, which is rare since our family lives in another state. We had only two chairs in the living room, now we have more. The former family room is now a more useable den. And I have a designated hobby room! First time in my life I don’t have to put everything away the moment I’m done painting or sewing.

I haven’t told all the family or friends about this last rearranging adventure, but I can already hear them laughing, pointing fingers and saying, “Haha! Karma strikes again!”

Here are some before and after photos. I am happy with the results, Karma or not. 

What about you? Do like to rearrange or are you happy with things the way they are? 

Okay, I Admit It. God Knows More than Me.

The other morning, I woke with my usual exuberance and a laundry list of things I wanted to do. I made coffee and grabbed my computer rather than my devotions.

God had other ideas.

My laptop took longer than usual to boot. I did control, alt, delete and restarted it. The second start was even slower.

With no other choice, I picked up my devotions. Good Morning, Lord by Joseph T. Sullivan admonished me to “seek first the Kingdom of God.”

Ouch.

Coincidently, my computer finish booting at the same time I finished my readings and it has not been that slow since. (Eye roll.)

The next morning I spent the first fifteen minutes in quiet prayer and contemplation — and something amazing happened.

My blood pressure has been rising since my cancer diagnosis and surgeries, then add in my irritation over jury duty, and I have considered calling my doctor and requesting a change in my medication.

However, after my meditations, I took my blood pressure. Rather than a high reading, it dropped back to last year's numbers, 118/74. I shouldn’t be surprised, but I was.

Perhaps now, with the added physical proof, I’ll make more of an effort to follow St. Paul’s example, putting God before all things, and being contented with my circumstances, regardless of what they are, a series illness, surgeries, or petty aggravations. 

I'll let you know how it goes. 

How about you? How do you cope with stress? 

Life Without a To Do List

I used to be a serious planner, making not only daily To Do Lists but also contingency plans for every possibility. I spent more time planning than any other activity. They were my last thoughts at night, fine tuning and revising, repeating with paper and pencil in the morning. On busy days I told people I’d gone from Plan A, past Plan G, and beyond.

Some planning is necessary, but not to the depth I had taken it. It was an attempt at control, an illusion that If I planned it, I could control the outcome. My plans had become idols. I thought more of them than anything else, even prayer.

The Not So Golden Moments of Retirement

It’s finally here, retirement. After months of planning and dreaming, the day has come, but my first few weeks weren’t the joy-filled, do-whatever-I want-time I thought it would be. Of course, I expected there would be obligations, tasks and chores, what I did not anticipate was being ill, needing a skin biopsy, and having partial laryngitis. Add in a computer crash, garbage disposal on the fritz, brand new dryer making odd noises, and a jammed tailgate on the truck. Sounds like too much fun, doesn’t it?

Retirement has been my golden egg, the place of peace and contentment, less stress ― in my imagination. I knew there would be bumps and a few rough places, but I figured those would be spaced a bit, not slam me right off the bat.

Searching for My Carmel-by-the-Sea

My husband wants to take me to Carmel-by-the-Sea on a future vacation. It sounds wonderful, with panoramic ocean views, quaint shops, fabulous restaurants, and elegant inns. Let’s say I liked the idea. It sounds like a place that would be hard to leave – until the money ran out.

The travel brochures describes it as a place of perfection, a place where everyone is polite and gracious, a place where the ugliness of the rest of the world doesn’t exist. That might be the true for tourists, but the residents deal with all the same problems the rest of us do. They just get to do it in a beautiful place.

We can chose to make our lives more beautiful, regardless of whether we live in a resort town or not, and the means to do this is free: the Serenity Prayer.

I have this recorded on a CD by Dr. Emmett Miller (Serenity Prayer) with a thirty-minute drive time meditation. What could be a better time to practice serenity than during my morning commute?

Life Doesn’t Need to Be This Hard

Life is hard enough without adding more weight than I need to carry – literally. Why do I pack my purse and my tote with so much just-in-case-I-need-it stuff? Some of those necessities never see daylight, so why do I insist on carrying it around?

I look at my husband. When we head out on errands, he has car keys and a wallet. I have my purse loaded with a year’s worth of survival gear. Why?

A week ago I woke with a horrific stiff neck. The pain moved down from the base of my skull and into my left shoulder. This is where I carry all of my tension and the arm I use to carry my work tote. Yes, the one loaded with more survival gear than the purse.

Spurred on by the discomfort of my knotted muscles, I cleaned house. I simplified everything down to what I actually used on a daily basis and pulled out everything else. I think I removed ten about pounds of stuff from the purse and the tote. At least it feels like it.

From that point, I thought about all the other baggage I carry around and decided an emotional and spiritual house cleaning was in order as well. Oh, I have done sporadic spring cleaning before, but I had not delved quite this deep. It was time. I needed to learn better ways of handling stress, or at least consistently practice the ones I knew.

Plan G or is it Z?

Between our impending move and  the tenuous situation with my job I felt overwhelmed, unmotivated and frustrated all week. Added to this, I am struggling with the edits for my novel. During the best of times, writing is hard, and editing will cause any author to pull out fistfuls of hair. As a first time novelist, I am unsure, overly critical and overwhelmed. Good thing my hair grows fast.

My husband and I put our heads together and made some plans to offset the job situation and the move. We may end up with a Plan B or even G, but at least we have a current goal, something to shoot for. It felt good to be able to take some action, rather than just sit around and wring our hands.