I lived alone for a year when I was working in Rome, GA during the late 90’s. My favorite thing about my one bedroom, old-as-dirt duplex was how clean it stayed. I would vacuum and dust on Saturday mornings but I was done in 30 min. Everything had its place and everything stayed in its place. I sometimes think that heaven is going to be a bit like that one bedroom, old-as-dirt duplex. (Pause for me to mentally tour the old place and remember everything in its given home.)
I presently live with four other people in a four bedroom, old-as-dirt farmhouse and it is rarely clean. Most things have a place but nothing stays in its place. One example that comes to mind most readily is bandages. In our home, bandages are as much a staple as milk and I do my best to stay well stocked. There is a small container in the bathroom where bandages and Neosporin find a place. Before the kids were tall enough to reach said container, it was safe in the linen closet and all was well in that space of my world. The last time I bought Bandaids, our oldest proceeded to open almost every one and put it on her fingers or legs and then peel them off and stick them to her carpet. (I sometimes think that Hell is going to be a bit like that scenario.) The few that she didn’t WASTE were commandeered by her sister and left throughout the house on her way to put them in their container in the linen closet. I think that only two found their way back to their proper place. . . and those two were used by KB on Saturday.
Today I made California Quinoa for dinner and in my quest to use kitchen shears the way my girlfriends say they should be used, I cut my finger while cutting up cilantro. Seriously. . . a nice “V” cut into the side of my pinky finger. I called for KB to run get me a bandage and she came back empty-handed. My next thought went something like this. . . “Wait. Why would I look where they should be. I need to look in random places where they would have been absent-mindedly left. I began to dig through the top drawer of The Blue Hutch and wah-lah. . . a bright yellow bandage with LOL printed all over it.
I realize this is a silly thing to write about but I just can’t help but think my God loves me sooo much that He used my child’s
inability unwillingness youth to protect one bandage for when I needed it.
Yes, I know that this is a “glass-half-full” viewpoint. Truth is that in that one bedroom heaven in Rome, Ga. there were plenty of Band-aids in the closet in the bathroom – – second shelf up – – right side. Truth is that God provided those too. I’m just sayin’.