The Effect of Christmas Trees upon Broken Vacuums

On Saturday, my mother and I crept into our freezing garage, dusted off cardboard boxes, heaved them upstairs, and splashed our walls with green, gold, red, and silver. Most of the decorations went up easily enough, curling up in last year’s allotted slot, but a few needed creative placement. When the last box was empty, I sneezed and slunched into an armchair.

But only for a minute. I wanted the house to look nice, but open boxes and countless fallen plastic pine needles stood between me and my goal. With a final effort, I forced myself to take out the vacuum while Mom put the boxes away.

VAROOM! said the vacuum. But the needles refused to leave their comfy carpet home. I peeked under the vacuum and sighed, exasperated. The brush roll stood motionless.

I gave myself a pep talk. Ok, fine, I can fix the belt. I can do it. I braved the cold garage again, this time for a screwdriver. Four screws later, I discovered that the belt had not merely slipped off its shaft, but had cracked and broken.

Gah! Fine! The needles win! Frustrated and drained, I gave up. I turned on the Christmas tree lights, turned off the room lights, and sat.

In the warm glow of hundreds of minute, colorful suns, the needles didn’t look as prickly and disappointing, and the upside-down vacuum seemed more peaceful. I noticed the star on top of our tree, just above a small nativity ornament.

In light of that nativity, I saw how utterly ridiculous I was to be angry at a broken vacuum. I laughed at myself.

God, how incredible you are. How unimaginable your gifts. In comparison, clean houses are less than plastic pine needles. Forgive me. And thank you. Thank you so much.

*****

Turns out God cares about little things, too. When I showed the vacuum to my father, he said that yes, of course we have an extra belt in (you guessed it) the garage. Fifteen minutes later, God had added one clean carpet to the extensive list of gifts he’s showered on me.

Baby Steps

This week I offer a poem I wrote in 2010. It remains relevant in my life.

I stride along the warm dirt way

Thanking God for little things

For dew that shatters glimmering ray

To reds and blues and lively greens

If only he were with me.

Longing creeps in,

Slashing contentment, joy

Breaking rhythm, stride, worship

Shoved back by a wall

I find I cannot

Walk

At all.

I fall.

Now bitter righteous guilt

Condemns my longing for

Sugary, sickly candy

You’ve buckled again, why don’t you stay?

Don’t try to clamber up

You’re worthless, faithless, virtueless

You can’t, you won’t—

Shut up!

I Sit.

Silent.

Cry.

Silently.

Wait.

Daddy lowers a proud hand

Let’s try that again, he smiles.

******

The recurring stumbling block I currently see is my pride. It's good to know God is patient!

Cleaning Closets

“Every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit.”

~John  15:2

“For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

~1 Corinthians 13:12

I stepped into my teaching office Monday morning and nearly suffocated in a rack of billowy sleeves. I navigated around it, stepping over scattered props, and slumped my bags down on my desk.

“Hi,” came a muffled greeting from another rack. Stephanie, our school’s drama director, curled herself around the costumes. “Sorry about the mess. I did make sure they didn’t leave anything on your desk.”

“Thanks.”

It wasn’t totally unexpected. Due to a lack of office space, I had taken up residence in the drama closet when I started teaching last year. It’s generally a hassle-free arrangement, but twice a year, during production week, I’m forced to relax my organizational standards to include wigs and hairspray on top of my grading stack. Our students finished their (excellent) performance of “The Music Man” last Saturday.

Not unexpected, but still stressful. Though there was a path to my desk Monday morning, the path disappeared frequently, occasionally just at the moment I needed to rush in and grab books for my next class. I reminded myself that I was glad Stephanie was sorting, stuffing, shelving. Someday soon it would be clean, even if I didn’t know when that day was.

Hearing a vacuum around noon today, I avoided the office altogether, opting to plan whatever subjects I’d taken from the room earlier.

God’s pruning is also messy. When God decides to pry my heart away from money, friends, reputation, the process feels like using training wheels after a bike race.

This afternoon, I opened my office door and breathed a relaxing sigh. Stephanie had left shelves stacked neatly with labeled boxes, two costume racks along the side wall, and a thoroughly-vacuumed carpet. The office was cleaner than it’s been since last fall. My heart swelled with gratitude and I silently kicked myself for having been frustrated.

Someday, I’ll have a perfectly organized, cleaned, radiant life. But until then, I’ll live in this God-ordained mess, because that’s his plan, and it’s worth it.

******

Life’s messiness is the focus of my friend Amy’s blog. She has lots of valuable and entertaining thoughts, so swing on by!

Yahtzee

 "And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified. What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?"

 ~Romans 8:30-32

Clatter, clatter, clatter. Thump, thump. Two dice escaped my blue plastic rolling cup, bouncing on the tablecloth. Six and six. I moved them beside my other three sixes.

“No way!” my mom exclaimed. “Three Yahtzees?! We don’t even need to finish the game, we know you’re going to win.”

I smiled. It was true. And yet I found myself vexed by each subsequent roll. I’d gotten my small straight before my large straight, and as I gambled with a one, two, three, five, I felt my gut twist as four refused to come out on top.

Good grief, Elizabeth! Why are you so worried? You’ve already won!

*****

I've already won, indeed. Jesus is preparing a New Earth as I write. For millions upon millions of years, I will revel in complete victory. It is finished.

And yet I find myself biting my nails. How will God bring in enough money for me to follow him to China? Can he possibly fix that broken relationship? Will he be able to support my emotions if I never get married?

God has handed me ten thousand and one Yahtzees. May he forgive my frequent faithlessness in fearing one lost large straight.

Comforter and Defender

"How often I have wanted to gather your children together 

as a hen protects her chicks beneath her wings."

~Matthew 23:37 

Do not say, "I'll pay you back for this wrong!" 

Wait for the LORD, and he will avenge you. 

~Proverbs 20:22

When I was perhaps seven years old, my extended family reunioned. It’s the only large family gathering I can remember. Not that I remember much. The green pool-table-esque hotel carpet, the glass-enclosed swimming area with super-cool sauna (adult supervision only), the me-sized jar of Chupa-Chups I’d won from the white elephant exchange, and Bully cousin.

I can’t even remember his name (all for the best), nor his relation to me, but I do remember he was slightly older, slightly larger, slightly smarter. And he knew it. My parents had to pull us both away from our chess game when I’d burst into tears after accidentally endangering my queen. As Bully cousin’s knight shoved her out of play, he’d taunted, “Wow! What a stupid move. I can’t believe you were dumb enough to put your queen there.”

But I had other cousins. Darren and Dustin had adventured with me since before I can remember. Slightly older, larger, smarter than Bully cousin, they made me feel safe as we explored the hotel.

At the pool, the three of us waded and laughed, my bright orange water wings bobbing uselessly as I bounced around the shallow end. Bully came in, splashing water in my face. I coughed.

“Come on, Bully,” scolded Darren, “play nice.”

“Alright, fine,” Bully answered surlily. “In fact, you’re right. I’ve been quite mean to Elizabeth. So I’ll let her push me in the deep end.”

“Ok. Fine,” said Dustin slowly.

Darren and Dustin treaded in the terrifyingly blue water as Bully moved to face the edge and I stepped behind him. I lifted my hands and leaned forward to push. Grinning, Bully twisted and grabbed my wrists, flinging my little body into the deepest water I’d ever been in. I screamed, swallowed water, coughed, cried.

My security team didn’t waste a moment. Dustin immediately pushed me to the side of the pool and helped me out. He carried me into the sauna and let me cry away my fear and chlorination into the steaming air. Peering through a sauna window blurred by condensation and my own tears, I watched Darren sprinting over the “Do Not Run” sign. He caught Bully and yanked him into the deep end. Bully spluttered and flailed, eventually grabbing the pool wall. He got out and stampeded back to his parents’ room.

He never bothered me again.

*****

I love this picture of God's two roles. When Satan attacks us, accusing us of wrong, God is there, with an avenging sword and a consoling shoulder. We desperately need both.

Thank you, Darren and Dustin. And thank you, Dennis and Terry, for raising your sons to reflect God well!