This blog entry is valued at $55.99

March 19, 2008

I’m a Goof Ball. Whether it’s attributed to my middle-aged mental deterioration or faulty genetic coding remains to be discovered. All I know is I have what seems to be an innate propensity for those actions most attributed to those of a pathological Goof Ball and two nights ago was no exception. Case in point.

My beloved and I left our home on an evening errand and had driven less than a block down the road when something slid off the roof of the car and dropped down the passenger side before crashing onto the street. It was immediately clear, even to my foggy little mind that earlier in the afternoon while cleaning out the inside of my car, also known as my mobile storage unit, I’d placed something on the roof to take into the house and had then proceeded to forget all about it until the ensuing slide, drop, and crash. Dreading my MacBook Pro had inadvertently morphed into Pentium dust on the side of the road I pulled the car over so we could walk back to the point of impact in search of clues. After a few minutes of searching on the gravel shoulder in the dark of night amid random objects including, but not limited to, a shredded mud flap, a McDonald’s bag filled with paper remnants of someone’s fine dining experience, and a very flat and equally very dead squirrel, we found it; shattered glossy gray fragments that only minutes before had been a faux cast iron wall plaque inscribed with the words “Bidden or not bidden God is present ” that I’d bought just the week before to add to our living room God wall and that’s where it was headed until I inadvertently set it on the car roof. Goof Ball.

Yesterday morning I drove down the same street and there it was, a scattered pile of plaque rubble, valued at the sale price of $55.99 excluding California sales tax, but as I passed by the scene of the accident rather than being upset over my carelessness I thought how perfect it all was; perfect that rather than being reminded of God’s presence on a carved plaque adorning our living room wall, I was being reminded of God’s presence in broken bits and pieces sprinkled along the graveled roadside. That’s what I mean by perfect because never have I been more aware of God’s unfailing presence in my own life than in those times when I’ve been the most broken. When my life was filled with uncertainty and fear, God was there. When people failed and circumstances overwhelmed, God was there. When I had a thousand questions without a single answer, God was there. Through the darkest days and nights, when I had no idea of which way to turn or what to do, I knew only this one thing as absolutely true; God was with me and God would stay with me, no matter what, for however long, and then some. Bidden or not bidden, believing or doubtful, relying or fearing, God is present. Always. For me. For you. Forever.

For the record, I care about our planet. I recycle and I never litter but I have to be honest with you, I’m leaving that mess right where it is. Consider it a roadside altar of commemoration, scattered fragments of remembrance for a God that’s always present, even in our times, especially in those times, of brokenness, and in the months to come, each time I drive past, even after the plaque rubber has long disappeared, it will be a place to remember the amazing faithfulness of an ever-present God. . .

And to check the car roof for random objects before pulling out of the driveway.

brokenbidden