Relationship with a King

April 16, 2009

Furious and amused as I type this. I just prayed for my lawn mower to start and followed up that prayer with slamming it on the ground. Another plan awry. After catching a turd with my eyebrow the last time I cut the grass with my weed eater, I thought that I should try to fix my lawn mower for the next time I cut grass instead of my trusty turd slinger; so, I did my trouble shooting while Linen slept for only 45 minutes yesterday. So, the crying began and my time ended; meanwhile, the Honda lay scattered like it bagged a claymore in my already Sanford and Son inspired garage. And so, this morning we hit Target (never in my dreams would I have thought that going to Target would be a treat, but getting out of the house is just that) for “bubble juice” because Linen used 3.2 gallons yesterday making the sidewalk “juicy”. But Target is not a man’s store apparently because it had no carburetor cleaner which I had determined to be the problem with my stinkin Honda. So, after posing on the balls outside of Target and stomping on the concrete circles poured in the sidewalk, we headed to Lowes. I got everything I needed to change the oil and air filter, treat the fuel and clean the carb. I bought a new plug yesterday during our trip to AutoZone, a man’s store… even a man with a lil girl in tow.

I was making incredible time. Not 20 minutes after Linen was down for a nap, the oil was changed, the carb clean and I was putting everything back together, making sure that I put it back without holding any extra bolts at the end, like some stupid book-shelf Carla used to come with from Wal-mart. It was done and I was ready to pull. It acted like it wanted to crank right up but wouldn’t stay running. The last time, it sounded like it wasn’t getting fire and that’s why I changed the plug the day before. Now, I could tell it was getting fire and fuel, but it was like the fuel wasn’t continually flowing. I checked all my lines and knew the fuel was flowing into the carb, but after 30 more minutes of pulling and double checking everything, I came to that place of frustration, where there is no moisture left in your mouth, you realize your teeth are clinched together and your shoulders are somehow pinching off the air flow to your brain. I actually prayed for my lawn mower.

As I knelt down, handle in my hand, I thought…

“Am I really going to pray for this lawn mower to work?”

‘Do you think He cares about this lawnmower working?’

“What if it worked… would you think that it is because the fuel settled or a piece of debris was cleared though the carb?”

‘Would God fix your lawn mower and not your wife?’

“Would you thank God if it worked?” “Would you write about it?”

God, I would love for this lawn mower to start.

I pulled and… it started and ran better than before… for about 1.5 seconds.

I pulled it again, thinking… “Maybe I am supposed to pull it again”

Nothing! I slammed it to the ground, infuriated that it didn’t work but mostly because I actually duped myself into praying for my freakin lawn mower. Growing up, I remember hearing people praising God for green lights and sunny days and thinking all along; “How about people dying in ambulances and farmers?” Sensationalists. But, I do find myself thanking God for days when I don’t cry, even the guilt of no tears in beginning to loosen its grip.

How am I supposed to know where to fall when it comes to God’s active control and frequency of “interruption” when it comes to life? He is creator and King of all. I know that he is in control, but to where does the passive begin and the active end? I feel that on one side of the x-axis I see Him as winding the clock and letting it continuously tick… as inevitable events play out, with a clearly defined end. I know what it is like to pledge allegiance to something… a country, a mission, a leader; and, I am very comfortable doing so. On the far right of that same axis, I see God as a Father… one who cares about every golf shot I hit, every time I stub my toe and maybe even laughs when I curse the door frame. I remember coming home from playing golf and Phil would be in the carport, smoking a Salem. I could recall every shot of my, then great 95, and he would eat it up with eager ears– eyes would brighten with talk of a birdie and shoulders slump at the disclosure of a three putt. He was incredible at listening and making me feel like my words and experiences matter.

I can pledge my life to a King and I can be comfortable with a Father, but I find no gray when it comes to speaking to my creator, King of all and my Heavenly Father. In fact, some days, I swing from one side of the axis to the other, always in the outlier portion. I cannot find a restful center. I do feel like God cares about how my lawn mower affects me, much like Phil would laugh ( and maybe did) when a turd seated itself on my face. I realize that God, as King of this world does have plans for the ends as well as the means and that things have been started and are continually carried out by some inspired inertia.

I’ve never had a relationship in which I could not bring something to the table; and here, I have nothing to offer. How can a King want a relationship with me? Why would He care about how alone I feel? He has a kingdom to expand, wars to wage and win, and justice to carry out. Perhaps this is what life is going to be about for me. The struggle of knowing and “fearing” my Father and King. It is frustrating in the moment and exciting from a few steps back. I can appease my pea sized brain sometimes for a few days with the thought of God not working in or out of time but through it, or the fact that a basketball can be turned inside out without losing its air in the fourth dimension. My King created time and dimensions; therefore, He is not bound by them. Still, my Father understands that I am and will listen to my struggles within them.

I have bid on a new carb on ebay…I am not going to pray that I win it.


One Response to “Relationship with a King”

  1. matt said

    But you left your throne in the sky just to live inside my heart.

    I am happy to see you speaking of the lord again in a loving way. I can’t fathom how hard it is to do so. Hope to see you again someday.


    P.S. I am sure you have, but check the fuel filter.

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