I was reminded this week that my emotions often get the better of me.
When that happens, I often picture a giant snowball rolling down a hill, gathering speed and size as it zooms to the bottom.
Well, I grew a whopper of a snowball this week.
On Monday, our Wi-Fi quit. Just boom, it was gone. We lost our landline, our cell phone reception, our television, and our internet. At first, I tried to have a good attitude about it. I mean, we could all use a break from world news and the tendency to scroll too much, right? It was annoying though to miss out on family texts and my favorite television shows and that frustration caused a tiny bit of “emotional snow” to gather together.
The next day, I had to pack my computer, cord, glasses, etc. to head into town and send in a writing assignment. When I struggled to connect to the library’s Wi-Fi, I felt that tiny bit of snow grow into softball size as it continued rolling down the hill.
That evening, my husband suddenly came out of the office (where he had been struggling with the Wi-Fi) and collapsed in a chair. Barely conscious, his heart rate had spiked to double the acceptable beats per minute. Should I call for help? How could I? Instead, I loaded him into the car. We made it to the hospital in record time and they whisked him away while I stood in my PJs and bare feet signing paperwork.
Of course I prayed. They were quick, urgent prayers repeated over and over again as I rocked in my chair. But did I allow God to fill me with peace? No, I did not. I was too busy packing emotional snow.
They had to stop and restart my sweet guy’s heart to get it back to a normal count. After getting back home and being unable to update our adult kids on their dad’s condition, my emotional snowball began to pick up all sorts of nasty stuff as it continued its way down the hill. It wasn’t just snow-white anymore, it had gathered in sticks, and dirt and mud. The sticks were anger, the mud was frustration, and the dirt was self-pity. Fear was in there too. My tiny white snowball had become a large, nasty sphere of junk.
The next day, I drove thirty minutes to an appointment only to find out it had been cancelled (they had tried to call me, but I HAD NO PHONES!). I was now literally searching for negative things to throw on my snowball and I found them easily. Isn’t it funny how easy it is to find negativity when we seek it?
After installing all new Wi-Fi equipment, it still didn’t work. Hooray! More gunk to add to my emotional snowball. I started relishing how large it had grown. It was powerful and it gave me a weird sense of control over my out-of-control life.
The next morning, I drove over an hour to the hospital in morning rush hour traffic. I used the time in town to call our Wi-Fi provider. Have you ever tried to reach a human being on one of those phone lines? Talk about adding to an emotional snowball! Finally, I reached a nice lady in another country. She explained that she would have to call me back the next day. Really, lady? How are you going to call me? I HAVE NO PHONE SERVICE! I wanted to throw my giant snowball in her face.
I repeated the hour drive to the hospital the next day. By this time, I was taking way too much satisfaction at how big and ugly my snowball had grown. It had become a badge of honor and I was rather proud of it, “Look Everyone, see how big and nasty my snowball is!”
After an awful restaurant experience, a broken diabetes monitor, a repeated frustrating call to our Wi-Fi provider, and my sweet husband coming down with a nasty virus on top of everything else, my snowball had become out-of-control, and I was riding it down the hill like some crazed warrior. I knew there was going to be an inevitable crash. There always is when you’re heading to the bottom.
And that is the place where I finally stopped long enough to remember that I have a perfect Father who is willing to help me tame my beast of a snowball.
I cringe when I think about how many times He has had to watch me create these snowballs instead of asking Him for help. He waits so patiently for me to crash, exhausted and ready to fall into His arms.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted, and saves the crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
I love this reminder. I should write it on my forehead and embroider it on a pillow.
Matthew 28:20 says: “I am with you always.”
That means He was near me when I gathered the first bits of emotional snow together. He was near me when it began rolling down the hill and He was near me when it grew in size and swallowed up everything in its path.
I could have called for help at any of those times, but I didn’t. Nope, I waited until I lay broken at the bottom of the hill.
Why do I do that? Each time I vow to surrender sooner and skip the part where I ride a huge snowball of my own making down a big hill. But more often than not I find myself right back with another ball again.
For now, I am going to enjoy the peace that comes with surrender. I will rest in the arms of my savior and hope that next time I truly will ask for help before my snowball threatens to take over.
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