Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The Dent in My Refrigerator

A dent. How can this be?   "Big deal", you say. 
Nooooo, you don't understand.  

This is my beautiful, "I'm sorry I'm being transferred and we have to move" gift from my honey.  The refrigerator that cost three times more than any refrigerator I've ever owned.  The one I fell in love with at Lowes and dreamed about for weeks.  And now it has a nice shiny dent I can see from any angle.  A dent driving me crazy.  A dent put there by my son, my oldest son, goofing off and playing in the kitchen.

Am I mad at him?  Uh...yeah.  What was he doing?  Playing football.  Where was I?  Upstairs giving the baby a bath.  Did he tell me?  No, said he thought it might go away...pop back out...or something.  (Spoken just like a teenage boy.)  

So, why am I telling you?  Because the dent in my refrigerator led to some lessons for me.  Wouldn't you know.

It's a material object.  Why am I so upset about it?  Have I made an idol out of my home?  Am I only content when everything is perfect?  Yes, sadly, yes.  Yikes.  

Does this boy need forgiveness?  Yes.  He feels bad.  (Really, he does.)  Did he make a dumb choice?  Yes.  He was running backward to catch the football.  He jumped up to catch the ball and slammed his elbow into the door.  Sure, I've taught the boys not to play football in the house.  He didn't think, he didn't obey, he didn't even tell me it happened!  But I must forgive him...like God has forgiven me.  Ouch.  The countless times I have disobeyed God, and not listened to God, ALL forgiven.  Wow. 

What now, about the dent?  I could order a new door and make him use the money he has saved to pay for it.  I could make some calls and see if the dent can be pulled out, like they do with dents in cars, and he could pay for that.  Or, I could make that the spot where I hang an index card.  The index card where I write a Bible verse I want to be reminded of.  A verse I want to memorize.  A verse God's Holy Spirit gives to me.  God's word, on top of the dent, my son seeing my choice, this could be good.  

Now it seems I might be thankful for the dent, thankful for the reminder of God's grace.  Isn't that just like God to use a dent in my refrigerator to speak to me?  I love the perfect, gentle ways of God my Father, teaching, correcting, leading and guiding me.  He loves me, selfish sinful me, with my dents all over. 

1 comment:

  1. It's okay, Stephanie, I can't even see the dent... Great post!! Love you.



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