Under Construction

Be careful what you pray for. Of course I've heard that warning before in reference to praying for patience. Praying to learn how to love seems so much kinder and gentler, wouldn't you think? Not so much.

Coinciding with my new year's prayer that God would teach me to love, my landlord "coincidentally" started a little renovation project in an unfinished room in the basement. In his usual casual way, the day before the crew was to arrive, he mentioned to me in passing that some construction guys would be hauling out some dirt from that room through my garage for a couple of days and then by the end of the week they would be pouring concrete and turning that unfinished room into a finished storage area. No problem, I say.

I shouldn't be surprised that we are three weeks into this little one-week project with no end in sight, and it's really not even the length of time that has brought me to the point of house rage (the construction-site equivalent of road rage). First there were the fumes that I'm sure someday they will find were filled with toxic substances unfit for anyone to be breathing, let alone living in. Next was the jack hammer. Oh yes. Jack hammer. Evidently they ran into rock that needed hammered away. Lovely. (Did I mention that I now office at home three days each week?!!) But the thing that has thrown me into my fuming frenzy is actually a small thing. Dust. Layers and layers of dust. I have no idea how all that dust made its way onto every exposed space in my house. I closed the heating vents and covered them with towels, hoping to stop the madness. No such luck. Evidently dust can pretty much go wherever it darn well wants to go, even without an open door.

So here I am, asking God to teach me how to love, praying for Him to open my eyes to the world of the poor and oppressed, and getting all bent out of shape with my landlord because his little construction project is getting on my last nerve. Nice.

My mind goes to Haiti where thousands of people would give anything to have a house still standing, clean drinking water, a bed with a mattress, access to transportation, or even a house filled with dust.

My heart is ravenous. I want so much. And it's not the wanting that's really the problem. It's my demand to have it my way. My demand that things stay in order, neat and tidy, under control.

God is messing up my world right now in more ways than some visiting dust mites. Which I know is my own fault. I asked Him to help me to learn how to love.