Small things that are not...

This summer, my new friend and writing partner came here with her family because her beloved, a pastor, was attending a conference.  At the time, one of the gifts they gave me was a propane tank for my grill.  Since mine could not go on the moving truck and my car was comically overfull, I needed to get one once I moved here.  The problem with that is I am no longer strong enough to actually carry a propane tank from car to grill, even if I have a Lowe's staff person put it in the back of my Highlander for me.  When my friend and her husband asked me if they could do something for me, I asked if he would ferry a tank for me if I purchased it.  Of course, being generous of spirit, they purchased, ferried, and installed the tank.

Tonight, I am reveling in the blessing of grilled chicken.  For all the things I have burned of late, my grilled chicken is practically perfect every blooming time!  I turn on the propane and then the grill and set the timer for ten minutes.  While waiting for it to heat up, I marinate the chicken in olive oil and herbs.  Once the timer goes off, I put the chicken on the grill and turn it down from high to medium-high.  I set the timer for five minutes.  When that timer goes off, I turn the chicken over and set the timer for another five minutes.  Once the chicken is done, I turn off the grill, turn off the tank, and set the timer for five more minutes so the chicken can rest a bit.

A couple of weeks ago--or maybe just a few days for time has become so strange to me--I set off the smoke alarm for the thousandth time while trying to cook, of all things, boxed macaroni and cheese.  Macaroni and cheese!  No smoke alarm should EVER go off for macaroni and cheese!  But, alas, I burn so much stuff that this has become a common occurrence. 

Well, something in me snapped--it was just macaroni and cheese after all--and I took a hammer to the smoke alarm.  I did not stop smashing until I was certain that the tiny pieces would no longer shriek at me as I try to cook.

This was, perhaps, not the best decision on my part.  However, this alarm really objected to most every mistake I made whilst cooking.  I frankly do not need any more criticism in my life.  I will not discuss the first alarm I demolished, but I still have one left in a central location on the first floor and one in the basement.

[I did find it rather strange, last night, when I came in from letting Amos tend his business, to find the first floor filled with smoke.  You see, I had been roasting myself before the fire when he asked to go out and forgot to put the screen back in place while I was gone.  A log rolled out, caught my pillow on fire, and was well on the way toward catching other things when I returned.  Not a peep out of the smoke alarm that I did test right after I demolished the overly sensitive one.  Proper application of my fire extinguisher solved my problem and I resolved to not leave the screen off again when I am away from the fire.]

Perhaps you are not following me, but I have often blogged about how much I believe the fires are a gift of our Creator, an example of how God does pour out blessings upon us.  There has not been a single fire during which some part of it I become overwhelmed by the continued blessings God has given me through the warmth and soothing peace of fire. Like with the grill.  With all the failures I have in the kitchen, I still have one certain success. And I have it because of the blessings my friend and her husband poured out upon me while they were here.  A propane tank might be a small thing to you, but to me it is not. It is a great blessing--a true encouragement that I am not a complete failure in the kitchen and a reminder to expect good things from the One who cares for us all.  There has not been a single time that I have used it when I have not, at one point or another, been overwhelmed by the continued blessings God has given me through it.

So, I suppose, I should not have been surprised to receive another small thing that is not.  Not small by any stretch of the imagination: the True Handheld Communications Device pictured above.  Yes, I am now the very grateful and still overwhelmed owner of the new pocket edition of the Christian Book of Concord!

Fred had expressed a wish for an index of the hymns that are in the Pastoral Care Companion (PCC).  My first thought was: Well, I can do that!  He and Ethel have been so kind to me, and his longing to be able to sing hymns more easily while out on visits with just his PCC was so very sweet.  I am all for folk having hymns sung to them when weary or ill or hurting or lonely or just when an undershepherd has stopped by to visit.

Pictured here is the first page of the index I created.  It is three pages and printed on sticky label sheets, so that it fits on the last page and the two insides of the back cover.

I started the project while at court, trying to distract myself from how I felt and what was happening.  It should have taken me but a day or two.  I am ashamed to add up the length of time that passed before I was able to mail this out to Fred and the other two Lutheran pastors who expressed a desire for a copy.  I was glad, however, to be of use, to be able to help another.  And, to Fred, this is a perfect example of something that appears small but is not.  To him, this is a great blessing that God will multiply beyond measure, beyond what my mind could imagine while putting it together.  An easy thing for me to do, the index really will help him be a better pastor.  It was a small thing that really is not.

Last week, while in court, I wished I had something else to occupy my mind.  Of course, being paralyzed by the snarling pit bull staring at me from the back of that woman's sister's shirt, I am not sure I would have been all that productive.

This week, I did have another project.  One for me!  You see, Fred and Ethel decided to surprise me by sending the new, beautiful, small, handy, easy to carry version of the Book of Concord.  To them, it is a small thing to do, to send me the gift.  To me, it is a great, great blessing.  I did, until I heard the ten-second exchange of my case, spend my time beginning to highlight my favorite bits in the Large Catechism.  So, there I was, in a place that bothers me and frustrates me, wrapped up for a time, in the wonder of the pure doctrine.  Ironically, I was reading about how being occupied with the Living Word is our single greatest repellent against the onslaught of our foe. His attacks in court are particularly strong.

I have found such solace in the pure doctrine.  For all the struggles I face--and no few of them have been bits of what I have read (misread most likely) in the Book of Concord--the teaching, the certitude, of our Confessions has been a bastion of peace for me.  A place where I am still, even if but for a short time.  This is why I often lugged that heavy, cumbersome copy of the readers' edition of the Book of Concord around with me.  But its weight is why I did not bring it as many places as I desired--most particularly not to court, since the long walk from the parking lot on my still injured foot would not have benefited by the extra burden.

Sitting in court, especially after the question and answer session that was so awful a couple of weeks ago, I find myself being defined by this utter disregard for who I am, for my well-being, for the needs that arose out of that unbelievably violent attack.  I should not, but it is difficult to keep my eyes on what is true, especially there, especially how utterly alone I feel sitting in those benches, waiting for justice that is most likely never going to come.

I am not who that woman testified I was.  I did not cause the attack.  I did not lie about my puppy really being the animal who wounded me.  I am not faking the terror that cripples me still.

Yet I am also not my failure, not my weakness. I am the beloved child of a God who pours out His love and blessings upon me like a never ending fountain.  And He does so, quite often, in small things that are really not.


Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.