Perspectives On Misbegotten Days and Mercy

Note: These thoughts were journaled about a month ago when I was on a two week work-visit at my Gran's. 

I have to admit that I didn’t have my best day the other day. 

The day had begun with hope and great anticipation as I was expecting to get out and see my mom, my niece, and to be able to finally connect to the internet and send some important messages after more than a week being stuck in the time warp of my Gran’s house.

Hope came crashing down around me in the form of eight inches of snow and a canceled doctor’s appointment.

Crushed doesn’t begin to describe my disappointment.

After a bit I decided I really shouldn’t be crying over something that couldn’t be changed and dug into my morning devotional book. The entry for the day was on “Not Why, But How” and encouraged the reader when suffering- be it horrible disappointments or burdensome illness- to just do the next thing and to ask God for joy in doing what you’re doing, big or small. For me, it really bounced off of a previous entry that talked about weaving the straw of our hardships into the gold of fulfilling his purposes for us.

So I set out on my morning with that perspective and prayer of turning a day I deemed rotten from the start- into something good.

And I promptly fell flat on my face.

Have you ever experienced one of those moments where someone smashes down on one of your buttons hard and unexpectedly- and you lose it?

Yeah, me too.

Well I’ll tell you, as I slammed the door behind me and marched out of the house with my shovel to do my worst to the thing that had ruined my morning I knew I had acted wrongly and would have to apologize. Thing was I didn’t know how to do that and not cause a full-scale meltdown. So, long after I had finished my little path down the walkway and to the mailbox I stood there, a frosty sentry to the garage stewing in my own indecision. I prayed as I stood there and whined and murmured at God about how this was not joy, and this was certainly not gold either! 

It’s a good thing God has a sense of humor and that He doesn’t strike us down with the plagues of Revelation when we are floundering.

It’s a good thing He gives us mercy instead.

His mercy to me that morning was a divine appointment that was far better than the doctor’s appointment that was planned.

His mercy pulled right up to the curb of my Gran’s house, pulled out a shovel, introduced themselves as a neighbor, and offered to help me clear the eight inches of dense-pack white stuff in the driveway. An hour later when Jamie and I had finished we tramped into the house for some fortifying coffee and a slice of fresh baked apple cake and got to start getting to know each other.

Jamie is a mid-twenties girl on her own, not much family to speak of, and only a few friends. She is in a point of her life where she is beginning again in many areas and looking for purpose for her life. She was full of questions for Gran about her Scottish background and our family, and it was nice to share that with her and see her excitement of learning something new as she heard stories I’ve heard a hundred times about how my grandparents came to the states.

As our conversation meandered she began to talk about deeper topics like “The Dash” between our birth and death dates and what we use our lives for, about a program she watched about evolution, and about how she believed her mother’s death was helping her help a friend who recently lost their mother.

And there was my mercy. There was my joy. Hiding under half a foot of snow and ice was my gold.

I had the privilege of witnessing to Jamie that morning. I talked to her about how our lives do have purpose and about our loving Creator. She talked to me about her interest in learning about God and about finding a church to go to. When Jamie left that morning she had my info and my favorite tract to share in her hand, she had my promise to help find a good church.

When Jamie left that morning I had received the blessing and the joy in double measure. I had seen the straw turned to gold.

I had started the day off with not my best of anything and had been given the best of His everything.

I stared off the day missing out on one appointment and was given another in its place of far greater significance, one I would never have had if not for eight inches of snow.

One I never would have had if not for His mercy even when I fall flat on my face.