Recently I returned home after being away for a few months. It felt strange to walk into my own home. I wasn't accustomed to what should've been normal. That soon changed.
The next morning I was at the kitchen sink and went to turn on the garbage disposal only to find it not working. Usually if it's jammed, you can still hear the sound of electricity but there was not a sound to be heard. My first stop was the circuit breaker box. Nothing was tripped so I moved on.
As I stood in front of the sink, I knew what needed to happen next. That involved me kneeling down on the floor and looking for the brand and model number. I thought long and hard because after two knee surgeries, this was not a good idea. I did the next best thing…I called my sister for help.
I wish we had a video camera, then again it was probably better that we didn't. She has a bad knee but that left her with one good one. She made it down onto the floor and got a picture of the label. We googled the unit to troubleshoot the problem. It turned out we needed to find the reset button on the bottom of the disposal. Easier said than done but we did it and power was restored. It needed a special wrench to unjam it but Amazon saved the day!
Now why would I go on and on about a jammed garbage disposal? It's not about the fact it was jammed but that it could be reset.
After that incident I was talking to my daughter and I heard myself say that I needed to push the reset button in some areas of my life. I wish it would be as simple as pushing the button on a garbage disposal but when you need a reset in life, it usually involves a long process.
The areas I need to reset didn't get jammed up overnight. It took years of making excuses and wrong choices. The result of these choices found me powerless and stuck in a place I didn't want to be.
As I thought about this, I looked up “reset” in the dictionary. One definition caught my eye. It said, “an act of fixing something in a new or different way.” That's what I need…a new way, a transformation.
I don't know what the reset is going to look like or where it will take me but I do know that God made a promise. In Isaiah he says:
“Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old. Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert.
I know it has to be His way, not mine. That's where the power is. That's where I can move forward. With His power, nothing is impossible. I've wrestled with Him for many years and it was a waste of time. It will be a daily surrender to His will. I'm not going to dwell on the wasted time and say, “if only.” Instead I'm choosing to dwell on and be thankful that His mercies are new every morning.
That is my reset button.
I was married to a fisherman, an avid fisherman. Almost as soon as we were engaged, he was planning our dream honeymoon on the shores of Chandos Lake in Canada. He was eight years old when his parents bought property around the lake and built a log cabin. He spent every summer there and that's where his love of fishing began. Whether he was standing on the shore or in a boat on the water, he spent countless hours doing what he loved. I'll never forget that first week. I knew I was in trouble the minute we arrived. There were two ways to get to the cabin. One was by boat (which we were towing), or maneuvering our car around boulders on a dirt road. We docked the boat at a small marina and drove to the cabin. I have to admit, my first view of the cabin was breathtaking. It was situated on a point where a bay joined the main part of the lake. Inside there was a wood burning stove and blue gingham curtains hung on the windows. My one challenge was the lack of indoor plumbing. I have to admit I was horrified when he threw a hose into the lake and connected it to a pump! We spent the rest of the day unpacking and settling in. It wasn't until the next morning I realized my husband's love for fishing was more like an addiction. I woke up to a beautiful sunny morning. As a new bride, I was adjusting to the joy of waking up to find the man I loved lying beside me, only this day, there was no man. Instead I found a note and a foghorn. Unbeknownst to me, he had risen before sunrise and headed out on the lake. The note he left simply said, “Went fishing. Stand on the shore and blow the fog horn and I'll come in. I love you!” Needless-to-day, I was not impressed; however, he was a man of his word and came in when I blew the foghorn. I had never been one for the great outdoors so I had to make a decision. I finally decided, “if you can't beat em, join em.” This involved learning how to fish. The first step was going to the bait shop. I couldn't even imagine touching anything slimy so when my eyes landed on some black, rubber worms, with hot pink tails, I told myself, “You can do this!” My husband laughed and shook his head but with my rubber worms in hand, we headed out to the lake. Step two involved learning how to cast. The better the cast, the more chance of success…or so I was told. My husband happily shifted into teaching mode and explained the finer art of casting. It's definitely not as easy as it looks. It took technique and focus but equally important was knowing where to cast. After several attempts, I made a successful cast. Now the hard part…the waiting! It was during the waiting that I heard the story of “the big one that got away.” Apparently there was a large mouth bass that was bigger than the rest. He was the Grandpappy of the lake and many had tried and failed to conquer him. I don't remember if it was this first fishing trip or the next but all I know is the fish were biting and I started reeling them in with my black rubber worms. Once again, God was in control. We had been out there a little while so it would soon be time to call it a day. Suddenly there was a tug on my line. It didn't feel the same as the others. This was a big one. He gave me quite a fight and I was screaming my head off while my husband grabbed a net. As I reeled in my catch, we could hardly believe it. I had caught the Grandpappy with a rubber worm! Needless-to-say, I gloated after the shock wore off. One other thing I learned with casting my line was the importance of adding a weight near the hook. The weight enables the hook to sink below the surface enabling the success of the catch. It's the same when we cast our cares on the Lord. It's about giving him not only the situation, but the weight of it that we are not meant to carry. He says it in His Word: Psalms 55:22 NIV Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken. Today I found myself casting and recasting. Some things are harder to let go of than others, but as I kept giving it to him, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders My prayer went something like this. “Lord, I need You to help me. This is a big one. It runs deep. I don't want to hold onto it and I'm casting it on you.” Even though the situation didn't change, it felt different. There was peace in the waiting. One last thing…the next time we went to the bait shop, guess who bought some black rubber worms?
I was married to a fisherman, an avid fisherman. Almost as soon as we were engaged, he was planning our dream honeymoon on the shores of Chandos Lake in Canada. He was eight years old when his parents bought property around the lake and built a log cabin. He spent every summer there and that's where his love of fishing began. Whether he was standing on the shore or in a boat on the water, he spent countless hours doing what he loved. I'll never forget that first week. I knew I was in trouble the minute we arrived. There were two ways to get to the cabin. One was by boat (which we were towing), or maneuvering our car around boulders on a dirt road. We docked the boat at a small marina and drove to the cabin. I have to admit, my first view of the cabin was breathtaking. It was situated on a point where a bay joined the main part of the lake. Inside there was a wood burning stove and blue gingham curtains hung on the windows. My one challenge was the lack of indoor plumbing. I have to admit I was horrified when he threw a hose into the lake and connected it to a pump! We spent the rest of the day unpacking and settling in. It wasn't until the next morning I realized my husband's love for fishing was more like an addiction. I woke up to a beautiful sunny morning. As a new bride, I was adjusting to the joy of waking up to find the man I loved lying beside me, only this day, there was no man. Instead I found a note and a foghorn. Unbeknownst to me, he had risen before sunrise and headed out on the lake. The note he left simply said, “Went fishing. Stand on the shore and blow the fog horn and I'll come in. I love you!” Needless-to-day, I was not impressed; however, he was a man of his word and came in when I blew the foghorn. I had never been one for the great outdoors so I had to make a decision. I finally decided, “if you can't beat em, join em.” This involved learning how to fish. The first step was going to the bait shop. I couldn't even imagine touching anything slimy so when my eyes landed on some black, rubber worms, with hot pink tails, I told myself, “You can do this!” My husband laughed and shook his head but with my rubber worms in hand, we headed out to the lake. Step two involved learning how to cast. The better the cast, the more chance of success…or so I was told. My husband happily shifted into teaching mode and explained the finer art of casting. It's definitely not as easy as it looks. It took technique and focus but equally important was knowing where to cast. After several attempts, I made a successful cast. Now the hard part…the waiting! It was during the waiting that I heard the story of “the big one that got away.” Apparently there was a large mouth bass that was bigger than the rest. He was the Grandpappy of the lake and many had tried and failed to conquer him. I don't remember if it was this first fishing trip or the next but all I know is the fish were biting and I started reeling them in with my black rubber worms. Once again, God was in control. We had been out there a little while so it would soon be time to call it a day. Suddenly there was a tug on my line. It didn't feel the same as the others. This was a big one. He gave me quite a fight and I was screaming my head off while my husband grabbed a net. As I reeled in my catch, we could hardly believe it. I had caught the Grandpappy with a rubber worm! Needless-to-say, I gloated after the shock wore off. One other thing I learned with casting my line was the importance of adding a weight near the hook. The weight enables the hook to sink below the surface enabling the success of the catch. It's the same when we cast our cares on the Lord. It's about giving him not only the situation, but the weight of it that we are not meant to carry. He says it in His Word: Psalms 55:22 NIV Cast your cares on the Lord and he will sustain you; he will never let the righteous be shaken. Today I found myself casting and recasting. Some things are harder to let go of than others, but as I kept giving it to him, I felt the weight lift off my shoulders My prayer went something like this. “Lord, I need You to help me. This is a big one. It runs deep. I don't want to hold onto it and I'm casting it on you.” Even though the situation didn't change, it felt different. There was peace in the waiting. One last thing…the next time we went to the bait shop, guess who bought some black rubber worms?
My children grew up knowing what it meant to do without, especially the older two. We were on a strict grocery budget of $50 a week for a family of six. We didn't have money for snacks and treats but we never went hungry. There were times they had holes in their shoes and their boots leaked so we put plastic bags on their feet so they could go out and play in the snow. We did the best with what we had and I'd like to think my kids grew stronger because of it. The Bible says the apostle Paul learned to be content whether he had little or plenty. We tried to hold onto that. We experienced many miracles over the years in our times of need. I call them miracles because they came at just the right moment and sometimes with no explanation. One of those miracles came on Christmas Eve. I don't remember the year but I know my children were young. It had been a hard year financially as my husband was in and out of work. As Christmas drew near, our parents sent some money for presents and I was thankful but my mother's heart longed to give them more. On this particular Christmas Eve, I had put the kids to bed. The tree was up, cookies were baked and now it was just a matter of waiting. The only lights on in the house were that of our Christmas tree. It was calm and peaceful. It was then I heard a knock on the door. I wondered who it could be at that time of the night. When I opened the door, no one was there. The only thing I saw were shopping bags filled with presents. I was so surprised that it took a minute to realize it wasn't a dream. There was a shopping bag for each child. As I placed the gifts under the tree, I was filled with awe at the generosity. I don't have to tell you of the joy on their faces the next morning when they saw all the presents under the tree. Several years later I found out who blessed my family that Christmas Eve. It was a woman who knew someone in our church. She wanted to bless someone at Christmas and she was given our name. It turned out, she ran to the side of the house after knocking on our door and watched as I saw the gifts and brought them inside. I don't know if she ever realized what her kindness meant to us. If you'd ask any of my children today about those times we were blessed by others, they'd remember. It wasn't many years later that my children lost their Dad. He died in November and the holidays were upon us. Many of our family traditions were based on his love of Christmas. They seemed empty without him. When we were first married, we started a tradition of helping at least one person at Christmas time, even if it was a plate of homemade cookies. We carried on that tradition as our family grew and now we were faced with our first Christmas without him. As I remembered the joy of giving and receiving over past Christmases, I made a decision that we would carry on our family tradition. There were years we chose a family and bought gifts. There were years we went to nursing homes on Christmas morning with gifts and cookies to spend time with those who were lonely. Those were the best Christmases we ever had. The one question I've asked myself is, “Is it better to give or receive?” When we give without expecting anything in return, there's a joy like none other that pierces our soul and brings goodness and mercy to the surface. When we are on the receiving end, we feel seen and cared for and loved. So I encourage you to give and receive this Christmas for isn't that what it's all about? John 3:16 NIV “For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”
