Misunderstood downpour {or how rain saved a party}

A dead car battery. I can postpone a trip to the grocery store or library. But this trip is special... a little girl valentine's day party. And we're buckled into car seats, boots and coats on, ready to go.

Big one bursts into tears when I tell them the car is dead. 'C-c-can't you find some battery juice, Mommy?'

Now I'm desperate. Scanning my contacts - Monday morning, everyone's at work.

Scanning the street, up and down for anyone with a car in the driveway. I knock on a neighbor's door, not a complete stranger, thank goodness, but a retired missionary couple. He looks puzzled to see a panicky, soaked momma on his doorstep. Please, can we have some battery juice?

A jump later, and we're back on track for the party. The girls shout their thanks to our neighbor. He smiles and says, 'That's what neighbors are for.' Then adds, 'Ya know, we were supposed to move into our new house last week, but with all this rain, they couldn't pour the driveway yet.' He wisely winds up his jumper cables and climbs back into his van. Smiles again and waves.

And I thank the Lord for the rain that has turned our yard into a swamp and held up a build site. For a neighbor who wouldn't mind saving the day for two very disappointed little girls {and one disappointed momma}. For a large grace on a small day. He sees the little stuff.

As I thank Him for the rain, I remember my own bitter heart toward that rain which fell as I was planning our spring garden. The rising puddles still present five days later irk me, especially the ones over last years' garden plot. I recall how beautiful my plants looked covered with tiny white flowers, only to drown the next day in a summer rain storm. Raised beds for tomatoes and eggplants, pots for root veggies, and I'm griping. Griping the drainage and the cost of good dirt and the general inconvenience in a Spring full of projects.

Now I sit, engine running, watching more large unrequested rain drops plink against the windshield. What if these drops fell, each one divinely directed, so we could go to this party? What if Mr. Don's house was held up, so he would be here to save the day? What if I've been grumbling all week against the blessing God was about to give?

Our family reading is in the wandering years of Israel. Each time they gripe about water, complain about manna, threaten to return to Egypt, slavery was better than God, DH and I shake our heads. How could they believe that? How could they grumble against a God making food fall from the sky every morning? This morning, I understand.

God didn't give me what I expected, what I understood, and I didn't trust.

And His grace abounds all the more - grace to forgive my untrusting heart and peace to believe him next time more misunderstood blessing falls from the clouds.

Compulsive Listing

I love lists. Writing them, organizing them, checking them off {I smile just thinking about checking a box}.

What? No one is surprised?

Actually, I love lists because I'm not naturally organized. I'm a habitual forgetter - drove my mom nuts. When I can't do anything, I remember, then forget when I could. This causes great anxiety because my forgetfulness always lets someone down, usually DH.

But once a task is on the list, it's as good as done. No more forgetting. It's in black and white on Evernote, so computer and phone and even DH can remind me to get it done.

When I sit down in the morning to read and pray, my mind spins with what I need to do, when I have time to do it, what order, what priority. I want to start my list. Then I won't have to think about it any more. I can focus:

God, let me get my stuff in order, then we can talk. Just let me schedule my day, then you can have my full attention.

That sounds so reasonable. 5, maybe 10 minutes to order my tasks and clear my mind before I spend time with God. But it never works. Now I am distracted by the list. Did I forget to add something? Should I plan the rest of the week too? Did I leave room for blogging and cleaning and playing with the girls?