Just this morning I'm mulling an interesting situation between two friends. It is not a pretty situation. I happen to have (or think I have) a piece of information that may or may not be helpful to the situation. I am thanking God that I know this is not mine to fix...God already has it fixed, and it's going to take God's own time for it to become apparent to all. I'm feeling like a real grown-up...running from pillar to post, fixing things that are none of my business was once a favorite pastime of mine. What a change; thank you, Lord.
Then I hear a weather report...possible snow on Thanksgiving right here, right where I live.
My brain exploded. I'm surprised there aren't bits and pieces of it all over this room.
This is not fair! I've been been sick as a dog, missing my get-togethers, deaf as a post, feeling unloved, unneeded, unwanted, unappreciated, and what was the grand finale? Three straight days of emergency runs to the ENT, the eye doc and the dentist. And now this?!
Snow on Thanksgiving means I may not get to go to George and Martha's with my friends which we've been doing for ten years now...and loving it.
When I got to, "Please, God...," I hesitated. I knew I was heading down that wrong road again. I did not thank God for snow on Thanksgiving if that be his will...I did think that snow could wait just one day, but I didn't ask for it.
But I remembered my earlier gratitude for learning not to stick my nose into business not my own...and the weather clearly is not mine to fix.
It occurred to me, yet again, how personalizing any perceived problem is my invitation for my ego to do my thinking for me...to resist, in a word, and that brings its own ugly with it. Resistance is like a tar baby...the instant I resist I've gotten involved and cannot, on my own, get away. To break free takes complete agreement with, acceptance of, surrender to that which my ego says cannot be allowed. For that, I must turn to God.
I remind myself of my decision that I'd rather have God's will done in my life than my will, no matter how pretty my will looks (and how not pretty God's will looks). I say, "Whatever, God." Then I feel relief that the problem is no longer mine.
Snow on Thanksgiving? Ruckus will be ecstatic.
Thank you.
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