Kiss Your Miracle

One morning on our vacation in Michigan Adam and I went outside to take Sky for a walk, only to find our stroller squished beneath a massive tree limb. Apparently, the branch had fallen from the very top of a tree next to my parents’ house, landing with enough force to damage two bicycles and bend the steel frame of our deluxe, baby-shower-gift stroller. Adam managed to get it rolling again, but now it pulls hard to the left. It doesn’t look so good either. “Maybe we can get another one, a double stroller for when the new baby comes,” Adam said. “Yeah,” I said, knowing we were both thinking about how much a big double stroller probably costs.

We trudged back inside and I found myself wondering why stuff like that happens. Sometimes it seems like the crises we walk through eventually have a deep impact on our faith in God. They can shape our character and even bring out the best in us. But little things like stubbed toes, fender benders, the flu, a wrecked stroller – they’re just plain annoying.

I guess life in a fallen world means putting up with aggravation. How we react in the unexpected hassles we face probably says a lot about the quality of our character. And if that’s the case, then I need to work more on how I handle minor annoyances. I tend to complain a lot and call it “venting,” which makes it seem like my whining is actually therapeutic and somehow beneficial. But when I stop and think about it, I have to admit that I don’t like to be around people who complain, especially about temporary, insignificant things. (The exception to that, of course, would be funny people – a category in which I do not place myself.) I figure that at the very least, I should try to be a person that I myself can tolerate. So maybe the next time I lose my keys, I’ll be careful with how I respond. Maybe. We’ll see. Losing your keys is really irritating.