Many times when I sit down to write I do so from a devotional angle. But I come here today in a confessional mode. I don’t aim to instruct or inspire; I’m just here to admit I am carrying some anger, and I want to vent it and redirect it with a story I can look back on and laugh about one day.
We’ve had a couple of long weeks around here due to school and pandemic stresses and a series of unfortunate events. I won’t detail those, but the biggest source of physical frustration is our temperamental hot water heater. It went out last Monday evening and again this past Tuesday evening. For whatever reason, the pilot light periodically shuts off and has to be re-ignited to start working again.
Most unfortunately, our hot water heater is housed in the crawl space under our 54-year-old house.
I managed to live 44 years of life without ever having to go into a creepy crawl space. But my husband has been out of town for work during the week, and since turning 44 in November, I’ve been under this house three scary times. I would like to say that I get braver every time I go, but that would be a lie. I only get madder.
This past Tuesday it was 9:00 PM when the girls and I realized the heater was out again and there would be no hot showers unless I went under there to relight the pilot. One daughter sat in the kitchen crying, another daughter went to the window eager to watch this scene unfold, and with her flannel pajama pants and her hair in a towel after an icy shower, my oldest and most dutiful daughter volunteered to go stand outside the door with a flashlight and be my assistant. So I threw my coat on and angrily marched around the side of the house to the scary entrance of the crawl space.
Every time I get to the door I pause and ask myself. What will I do if there’s an animal in there?
14-year-old (reassuringly): It’s winter. All the animals are hibernating.
Me: How do you know that for sure? What about snakes?
14-year-old: It’s fine. You’re going to be fine. Do you want me to play a Christian song?
Me: What??
14-year-old: Do you want me to play some Christian music? That’s what I do when I’m scared.
Me: No. I do not want a soundtrack for this. (Thinking… if I did want a soundtrack it would be something more like “Eye of the Tiger”)
14-year-old: I smell gas.
Me: No, you don’t. You’re imagining that.
14-year-old: No, Momma. I definitely smell gas.
After finally convincing ourselves that the creatures were hibernating and the smell of gas was in our heads and not in the actual air, I fussed and said a few ugly words as I pushed dusty buttons and finally got the pilot light to start blinking again. So we cheered, ran back inside, and eagerly waited for the water to warm back up. After an hour it was still only lukewarm but sufficient enough for taking a few quick showers and getting to bed.
Yesterday morning the water was icy cold again, and I had to return to the crawl space one more time to relight the pilot until a plumber can get here to examine the situation today.
I’ve done a little Google research, and I think I’ve diagnosed the problem. I have no idea how to fix it, but I’m crossing my fingers that we don’t need a new unit. In the meantime, I’ve decided I could market my services to inspect crawlspaces for safety hazards and re-ignite pilot lights in underground places. My rate is $1000/hour not because I’m skilled or knowledgeable. But because I will do it scared while a 14-year-old assistant who is braver and better than I am at dealing with life’s frustrations plays calming music in the background. We will travel.
Coincidentally (or not?) I received two different sets of Scripture cards to display on miniature easels for Christmas. I set one up in our kitchen, and the other is on my nightstand. When I went to bed last night I glanced over to see this:
“The joy of the Lord is my strength.” Nehemiah 8:10
And when I walked by the one in the kitchen today I noticed it reads:
”Strength and dignity are her clothing, and she laughs at the time to come.” Proverbs 31:25
I see what you’re doing here, Lord. I don’t like it, but I can see what you’re doing.
Life is full of frustrations, big and small. It may take a Scripture easel in every room to keep my perspective in check. But frustration and faith can co-exist. I’m still learning how to lean more into the latter.
May I never take hot showers for granted. May my plumber (and any service providers you have to employ this winter) be a bearer of good news. And no matter what and most importantly—may the joy of the Lord be our strength today.
I feel a little less angry already.
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