Brakes & Rotors

     A while back my car needed brakes.  My husband replaced the front pads.  All was well for a while.  Then it started bouncing a little when I would stop.  I told him and he said it probably needed the rotors turned.  Ok.  Time passed; the bouncing got worse.  I mentioned it again; probably need to take it to a shop and have it fixed.  Ok.  More time passed; bouncing continued to get worse.  I “mentioned it” again.  

“All the places I called are backed up.  I really need to get these brakes fixed.  It’s starting to sound like it’s falling apart.”

“Well it’s because you’re riding your brakes.”

    Now, I don’t know enough about how brakes work to know if that’s totally accurate or not.  But it kinda irked me a little bit.  

“I do not ‘ride my brakes.’  It’s just from all the stopping at red lights and stop signs in town.  And all the people in front of me who like to stop just all of a sudden without any brake lights or blinkers or any warning at all.  It is not my fault.”

    The next week, last Friday, my pastor made a comment that I have not been able to forget.  In his preaching, he was telling stories of a couple of fatal car accidents.  He said, 

“They had it all under control...until they didn’t.”

It absolutely took my breath away.  And every time he repeated it, I lost my breath again.  

“They had it all under control...until they didn’t.”

To me it was the most random statement, at the most random time.  It didn’t seem to fit with anything else that happened during that service.  But maybe it did.  Maybe my mind was just on the dozen other things I had going on that day.  How many times have I tried to do it all, get it all done, keep it all running smooth...riding my brakes to keep it all under control.

“They had it all under control...until they didn’t.”

What made it worse, these people had passengers in their vehicles at the time of their wreck.  Some made it; some were injured; some didn’t survive.  

    I have never had the wind knocked out of me like that before, and I’m still not over it.  I think I was already in the same shape my car was.  I had let things go so long, I felt like I was about to fall apart.  I needed repair before I took out me and whoever was just along for the ride.  I need to learn new driving habits, and stop riding my brakes.

Blessed by the Effort

 Have you ever watched somebody do something and thought, “Wow!  Look at them!  It’s great they’re trying that!  That is such a blessing!”  And in the same breath think, “It would be perfect if ________,” and fill in the blank with half a dozen things you think would make it better?  No?  Just me?  Hmm.  Ok then, moving on.

I got home from church last night (first night of revival), and my son had cooked supper and saved me a plate.  Bless his heart!  (And I mean that in a nice way.)  Was it perfect?  Nope.  Was I blessed by it?  You better believe it!  But, it would have been perfect if ___________.

After eating my 9:30 p.m. reheated supper, while everybody else had already gone to bed, I decided I’d go ahead and clean up the kitchen.  I didn’t want to.  I wanted to go to bed too.  But I knew if I left the mess I would have to look at it and smell it this morning.  Nobody wants that.  So I loaded the dishwasher, handwashed the iron skillet; but when it came down to that last pot that held the scraps, I had the real internal struggle.  Do I go out in the cold wind to rake these out, or do I leave it for tomorrow?  Everything else is done; I hate to run the dishwasher without all the dishes in there; isn’t that wasting water and detergent?  I snapped the dishwasher closed, hit the start button, and walked away.  I rewarded myself with a Little Debbie while I folded a load of towels.

I was so proud to walk into a clean kitchen to make my coffee this morning.  Until....

I got to the stove and saw the pot I had left last night.  It would have been perfect if ________.  That’s when God spoke to me, reminding me of my blessings from yesterday.  (I can just see Him standing there, rolling his eyes, one hand on His hip, the other extended to reveal the scenes.)  

“You’re not blessed by the perfect.  You’re blessed by the effort.” 

Y’all!  God doesn’t want our perfect.  He wants our effort.  Our willingness to do the simple and the hard that He asks us to do.  Not with our own abilities, but with His.  To maybe step outside our comfort zone and try, without worrying about being perfect or what the outcome will be.  Give what we've got and He'll take care of the rest.  

Y’all probably don’t see all that in my pot of leftover mac & cheese, but God gets my attention in weird ways.  Because I’m not perfect.  (Could it have been better if I had taken the scraps out last night?  Possibly.  But we won’t chase that rabbit right now.  Let’s just work with what we’ve got.)

So, is this writing perfect?  Absolutely not.  But I’m running it.  One pot short of a full load.  And I’ve already been blessed by the effort.