An Ark Full of Grace
You have to admit, there are times in life when you need a boat load of grace to keep going. Lately, I've needed an ARK-sized boat load.
Some call my bizarre happenings attacks from the enemy; while others say I have Lucille Ball Syndrome. I can't tell you how many times I hear, "Only you!" When I talk to my Pastor, all I have to say is, "You'll never guess what happened," and he starts laughing. Maybe that should clue you in.
Summer heat makes me generally irritated and grouchy, but this summer I had the bathroom remodeled. Anything involving a 200 year old house is major. Just attempting to make things level requires a true craftsman. So, record breaking heat, plus humidity, plus dust, plus all the decisions, plus a 135 lb hairy dog at the peek of shedding, and I needed an Ark full of grace.
Finally finished, it was time to decorate. I was holding up an antique shelf to see if it would fit in the space over the commode when it slipped from my hand and cracked me on the eyebrow! Sure, I could have hunted for my tape measure, but I thought ... well, never mind. I woke up in the morning to discover I'd given myself a black eye! (Strangely enough, I got more compliments on my appearance that week than I had all year ... maybe I should start wearing eye make-up ... on both eyes that is).
The new bathroom is so beautiful I didn't want anyone to use it. After paying the bill, I searched the internet to find a pay toilet meter for home use, but couldn't find one. I had to resort to the Christian method of raising money; but so far, no one has put any money in the offering basket I put on the back of the toilet.
With the inside of my house back together, I turned my attention outdoors. With the fall approaching, it was time to fill the bin on the porch with logs for the wood stove. I got the wheelbarrow and ... wait ... let me back up a minute. You see, I have this prevailing image of myself as: thirty years younger than I am, incredibly fit, and totally independent. Why wouldn't I work on the wood pile?
It's not my fault that a 'demon possessed' log would suddenly leap from my totally independent little fingers and slam down on my left thumb! &*%@$#!)*#, Praise God.
Time for another Ark full of grace!
The next day I left for a speaking engagement in Pa. (Maybe the enemy had a little to do with it?) By the time I drove the 250 miles, it was pounding with every beat of my heart. How was I going to speak with this pain, Lord? Call Noah, we need his boat again.
Amazing, my thumb didn't hurt at all while I was speaking--the minute I stopped it started throbbing! Grace.
In the next few days I went to the emergency, two trips to urgent care, and my own doctor. It was as if no one took me seriously. The worst was right around the corner.
It wasn't until a pink strip appeared running up my arm that things began to move forward. I was sent directly to the hospital for I'V. antibiotics and they kept be for four days.
My finger is fine now, and the back eye is long gone. The wood pile is still growing because I am young enough, fit, and determined. Besides ...
God has more than enough grace to fill an Ark when we need it.