I arm wrestled my dishwasher this morning because my husband wasn't here to do it for me.
You read correctly. I arm wrestled my dishwasher. I threw everything in it, I pushed my body up against it, held it closed the best I could, and forced the broken metal latch to the left to secure the ancient door in place. Then I pressed the button that says "normal wash" and hoped for the best.
Nothing happened. I was not surprised.
I pressed "cancel", and then "normal wash" again, and then something happened. A little green light came on, telling me my dishes were clean. Poof! Just like that. Clean.
My dishwasher thinks I'm an idiot.
I pressed "cancel" again, tried hitting several other buttons, such as "pots and pans", "light wash" and "rinse hold", and was almost giddy when another green light came on...until, that is, I realized it was telling me my dishes were drying. Dirty, but drying.
Frustrated, I pounded the control panel with my fist, as I often do when something electronic won't work. I beat it.
I pressed a few random buttons. Then I pressed "cancel". Then I pressed "normal wash" again, and waited. Would you believe that that stubborn little machine finally just started chugging away, with the green light lit up over "wash"? Mission accomplished.
Of course, I was ready for a nap.
Several months ago now, I asked God for a farmhouse. I had lots of ideas of what I wanted that farmhouse to be like, but I never put in a request for an adequate dishwasher. And when God answered my prayers with this big, beautiful, beyond-my-dreams white farmhouse, I was determined to be content with the little hunk of rusty metal that would be washing my family's dishes until we could afford a new one (read: until our old house sold). I knew it was old. I knew it was ugly. I knew that it leaked all over the floor and that the previous owner kept a towel under it at all times. But I could wait.
Once I started using it, however, and discovered that there is no rhyme or reason to when or why it may or may not start washing my dishes, I was a little less enthused. I'm pretty sure this is the first dishwasher ever invented. It's so stone-aged, I half expect that I could open it suddenly and find a monkey just licking my dishes clean. I sincerely hate this piece of junk.
We came home to our new house one night last week, and there was an envelope taped to our door. Inside, there was a note from some wonderful mystery person explaining that God had told them to buy us a dishwasher. And even as my tears of disbelief and gratitude fell, a gift card fell into my hand.
Once again, I am stunned. Stunned by the generosity and obedience of this unidentified friend (or group of friends). Stunned by God's love for me and His continuous provision for me even in what seem like the most insignificant of things. Even in things that I toss away as too shallow to ask for or too petty to desire. He cares about the tiniest details of my life.
And I have the feeling that He's been watching me arm wrestle this stone-aged hunk of junk with a smile on His face.
"Just wait till you see what I'm going to do...."
Since the beginning of time, my Father has watched over me.
The same day my dishwasher was invented.