God Doesn’t Need Me to Touch-up His Plans

I’m slightly neurotic. I know we are to put our best selves forward, but sometimes my best self looks a lot like trying to salvage some sort of sanity in the midst of a meltdown.

Major change is not exactly something I always handle with grace and poise. In this particular episode of change, we were relocating for my husband’s job after being in our home for eight short months. The timing really was perfect, but looking for a house in a booming market proved incredibly stressful, seeking a new teaching job for myself, and scouting the best childcare facility was just a pile of epic decisions all at one time.

Wade was living in a hotel during the week and already working in the new office, leaving me to pack up the house and prepare for the move. Any issues that fell under his domestic job description were unfortunately left to me.

The thought of cooking was unthinkable, so I ordered pizza. I was feeling pretty good about the current state of packing. The formal dining room directly to the left of the front door was the main area for box stacking, and it was filling up fast.

The door bell rang, and I welcomed the waft of Pizza Hut pizza and cheese sticks…which to this day are like kryptonite to me. I shouldn’t be allowed in their vicinity. As I prepared to receive the box, I looked down to see tiny, what I will call, creatures marching up my arm. And I looked down and saw them marching up my daughter’s legs.

Slightly neurotic probably didn’t quite cover my response to the delivery driver. I pray I overpaid astronomically because I hit freak-out level ten in about a tenth of a second. It’s one thing for them to be crawling on me, but up my two-year-old’s legs? No ma’am.

For some people, like my husband, this would have been no big deal. But I don’t like bugs or vermin. At all. Never have. Never will.

I sat the pizza down, washed off my daughter’s legs, and got her secured in her high chair. I’m so thankful she wasn’t old enough to decipher a problem with my high-pitched, crazed voice. I called our neighbor, an older man of an extremely calm nature (thank You, Lord). He sat with my daughter, and they laughed over pizza.

Meanwhile, I stood in the entryway, a safe enough distance from the peril at the front door, and called the exterminator.

After investigating, he let me know that the culprit was booklice.

What?!

Just when you think you’ve hit your limit, you learn a version of lice is threatening to inhabit all of your life’s boxed treasures. Judging by the expression on my face, he started to talk slower and quite calmly.

I learned that they hailed from a bird’s nest some slick swallows had built above the front door. Apparently, fungus can develop in their remnants which led to the current state of affairs.

I proceeded to tell him to unleash the motherload of spray as he deemed necessary to rid of anything non-human in the interior of our home.

And he did.

But you know what I did?

When he was done and gone, I remembered that I had a jug of Home Defense spray in the garage. I did double duty around the front door. Just in case.

I can look back and laugh at this lunacy now, but in the midst of the moment, laughter was a million miles away.

When the sailing is smooth, it’s much easier to think about the next right thing. To listen for that still, small Voice.

In moments of crisis? Panic may ensue. Tunnel vision may cloud what the next right step should be, and the only thing we can see is the wreckage of the circumstance staring back at us in the face like a fire dragon.

The crawly creatures didn’t make it through that fateful night of extermination, and all of our belongings arrived at our new home sans anything other than packing materials.

I learned some lessons as I look back at this juncture of my life’s road map.

Panic doesn’t breed resolve.

The exterminator was an expert, but I felt my subpar knowledge of extermination was needed to touch-up his work. How often do we do this by circumventing God’s plans for us for what we think would be best? God doesn’t need me to touch-up His plans.

The biggest lesson that still rings true, maybe even louder than it did that day? My Heavenly Father wants me to trust Him. Completely. The fullness of His love is beyond comprehension. And He is right beside me in peril, smooth skies, tears and laughter longing for me to cry out to Him.

Gracious Lord, In the middle of our pandemic-ridden, chaotic world, please help me to stop and be still. Please help me to know Your love is limitless. I crave the strength and peace that only You can give. Thank You for the ocean of grace that You lavish over me. Sovereign Lord, help me glorify Your name by trusting You completely. Amen.

Psalm 4:1, “Answer me when I call to you, my righteous God. Give me relief from my distress; have mercy on me and hear my prayer.” (NIV)

Psalm 62:8, “Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge.” (NIV)

Proverbs 18:10, “The name of the LORD is a strong tower; the righteous man runs into it and is safe.” (ESV)