I asked God a question, and I didn’t like His answer.
We’ve all been there, I assume. But bear with me for a few moments as I take you through something I learned this week.
Normal day, right. Just another Monday. I have my list of things to do, and I’m checking them off. In the meantime, a post on Facebook catches my eye. There’s a Christmas cave not far from where we live. I love Christmas. Like Buddy on Elf loves Christmas, okay. You can bet your britches I’m going there this year.
This gets my Christmas wheels spinning. I’ve been wanting to go to the Smokies and see the Christmas lights for years. Que instant idea. I’ll buy my own Christmas present in the form of a weekend at the Smokies for me and my husband.
And the race begins.
- I’m on websites checking out hotels.
- I’m figuring out where the kids are going to stay – cause I’ve already asked and they don’t want to go.
- I’m seeing if I can get my husband to take a day off work without making him suspicious.
Then I realize I need to pray about this. Just a quick, Dear Lord, if this is something we shouldn’t do, please show me.
Washing machine breaks.
First thing in the morning. It actually died Monday night, but I wasn’t paying attention that it stopped running until I went to move the clothes into the dryer and the washer was still sitting full of water.
And my good mood plummets. This is it. Here’s my answer.
I’m getting a washing machine for Christmas instead of a weekend getaway.
I. AM. FURIOUS.
It might be irrational. I’m glad no one was here to say that to my face on Tuesday. It was not a good day.
I told myself all the right things.
- God knows best.
- He’s not doing it to punish you.
- It’ll be okay.
- You don’t know what He’s keeping you safe from.
But the irrational part of my brain wanted no part of this. It wanted to go to the Smokies. I could see the lights and smell the snowflakes already, for Pete’s sake! It would have been perfect.
So I pouted. And I acted like a child. And I asked God why? at least a hundred times. I can imagine Him shaking his head at me like I do my boys when they act this way.
But I also learned something about myself.
I accepted God’s will. I didn’t like it, but I accepted it. And once I remembered the why didn’t matter, I got over myself.
The washer is resurrected from the dead at the flat cost of $22.
We’re still not going to the Smokies.
I double-checked with God.
The rest of my appliances survived the second asking.
Note to self: If you’re going to lay out a fleece like Gideon, maybe be specific like Gideon.
And I’m okay with His decision.
Maybe next time, I won’t even throw a fit when God tells me no. It’s easy to fall in that trap. To feel neglected and forlorn because you’re not given the answer you want. I could drop three years worth of woe on that count, which is partially responsible for my reaction on Tuesday, but that’s not the point at the moment.
Even when you can’t see a reason for God’s answer, trust.
Even when you think God doesn’t love, He does.
When you think nothing will ever be right again, it will.
I learned a powerful lesson through a washing machine. In everything we do, God is there to light the way. Let Him.
P.S. My husband still doesn’t know about the almost-surprise trip to the Smokies. He doesn’t read my blog, though, so he won’t find out. He just knows I was acting like a fool because of a washing machine.
I’ll just have to imagine. I’m good at that.