The Allen Wrench

I spent this weekend moving furniture out of my old house.  If you're thinking to yourself, it seems like she's been moving forever, you would be right.  You may also be thinking I am tired of hearing about this move.  Well, there's no reprieve, my friends.  If I must suffer, so must you.  

Leaving a five bedroom home on acreage and moving into a two bedroom apartment is quite the process.  It seems like no matter how much stuff I get rid of, there's still more stuff.  Every time I turn my back, it multiplies.  I'm two weeks away from being fully transitioned to apartment life.  My house is sold, and most of my belongings are moved out.  

But, can I tell you the funniest story?  My daughter has moved into the same apartment building as I live in, and she lives a floor below me.  In addition, my mother decided to sell her home.  Can you guess where she's moved?

She's literally in the apartment above me.  I can actually hear her when she gets up in the middle of the night to use the restroom (although she doesn't know that, and I don't plan to tell her).  

I spent time grieving the loss of my home, because it was a place for my kids and I to be together.  It was also near my mother.  I had no idea Mom would sell her house.  I am now physically closer to all of them here in my little apartment.  I like to tell people my living situation is a cross between Seinfeld and Everybody Loves Raymond.  I have family coming through the front door more often now than when I lived in the country.   But, I love every minute of it.  

This scenario was unimaginable two years ago.  God's plans are so creative, and I would have never imagined he has a plan to bring me closer to my family instead of further away by selling my home.  All I knew was He kept telling me to simplify my life.  

It still feels so surreal.

But, wait.  There's more.  Guess who bought my mother's house?  The Ukrainian refugee family that I am sponsoring.  Now, they have a beautiful home to raise their kids.  My mother is in a place that is better for her.  I am free from the obligations of overseeing a small farm.  It feels like a gigantic domino of miracles.  

In the gospels of the Bible, we read about Jesus' first miracle.  He was at a wedding, and the bride and groom ran out of wine for the guests.  In the culture of the time, running out of wine was considered embarrassing. Rather than seeing the bride and groom humiliated, Jesus' mother Mary prodded Him into His first miracle.  But, before Jesus performed the miracle, Mary gave instructions to the servants.  

Do what he tells you to do.

The servants did exactly as Jesus told them, and once all tasks were complete, the miracle was indeed performed.  Water turned into wine and the guests were astonished the bride and groom saved the best wine for the end of the party.  Yes, the same wine that was water a few minutes prior.

Consider the servants in this account.  Mary had faith because she knew what Jesus could do.  But, the servants were obedient and had no idea they were going to see a miracle.  They were filling cisterns with water, thinking to themselves, What we need is wine, why are we filling cisterns with water?  We need a Wal-Mart delivery, or perhaps an Insta-cart ASAP.  These instructions don't align with what we're needing.  

Sometimes in life, we have no idea what God is going to do.  We simply have to do what God tells us to do, and then the miracle follows.  Looking back, I can see multiple circumstances where this played out in my own life.

God asked me to host Ukrainian refugees.  It wasn't convenient.  I was newly divorced (I actually signed divorce papers after the family arrived), inviting a family of four into our home.  I was working long hours.  We had a language barrier.  There were so many unanswered questions. Where would their kids go to school?  What if they were mass murderers?  What if they committed a crime here, and I was held responsible?  What if we genuinely don't like each other?  What if, what if, what if?

After waiting at the airport for three hours for them to clear customs, I threw my arms around a very exhausted family of four.  From then on, we've been in separable.  In the worst pain after my divorce, a family came along who was an integral part of my personal healing.  I had no idea my personal healing would be part of God's miracle.  I was just doing what He told me to do.

A few nights ago, I was removing a mirror from a dresser this week before the movers arrived.  Most of the stuff is out of my house, so I didn't have many tools to help me with this particular task.  I sighed with disappointment when I saw the mirror was attached to the dresser with screws that required an Allen wrench.

I looked through the tools in my toolbox, and I found two Allen wrenches, but neither of them fit.  I was tired, frustrated, and I desperately wanted to go to sleep.  It was late at night and this was my final task to prepare for the movers.

But, I could not find the right tools.  

As I looked though my empty cabinets one more time, I prayed a prayer.  God, I know this is a little thing, but can you please help me find an Allen wrench?  I began to look under my sink and as I looked, I felt the Holy Spirit prompting me to look further.  In the back corner, under my sink, was a Ziploc baggie with some tools in it.  One of them was a flat screwdriver. 

It was exciting to find tools, but still, these weren't the right ones.  Try it, God said, and see how much I love you.

I decided to do what God told me to do, even though it made no sense.  I went to the bedroom and tried using the flat screwdriver.  Much to my amazement, it fit perfectly into the square and it began to turn the screws.  I was so excited and I praised God, thanking Him for his amazing miracles and hidden flat screwdrivers under my sink!  

Then, I got to the fourth screw.

It was stripped and nothing I did would remove the screw.  As I continued to sweat and agonize over the screw, I saw a shadow begin to come across me as a piece of wood holding the mirror in place gave way under the weight.  The mirror was unable to completely fall to the floor since one screw was holding it in place, but a small piece of wood integral to the functionality of the entire dresser had broken.  It could be fixed, but still, it was annoying and I had narrowly missed having the entire mirror come crashing down on my head.

Even after all my near-death experience, I still had to remove the screw to finish the job.

I was down.  I was discouraged.  I hated Allen wrenches.  I cursed myself for my love of cheap furniture that was made with cheap screws.

I googled how to remove a stripped screw.  One popular response said to put a rubber band between the screwdriver and the screw.  Well, this was yet another miracle because I had just cleaned out the junk drawer in the kitchen.  I praised God for His goodness and couldn't believe my luck, knowing I had just thrown a few rubber bands into the trash. 

There was only one small problem.  I had thrown a lot of other trash on top of the rubber bands, including an old razor with sharp edges.  So, I meticulously waded through my trash, hoping I wouldn't slice my finger off, and wouldn't you know it!  I found not one rubber band, but two!  And somehow I bypassed the razor.

I was excited.  I praised God again.

Immediately I went back to work on the pesky screw, knowing God was going to work yet another miracle.  I must have worked twenty minutes until I poked holes in both rubber bands and they fell apart.  No amount of sweat was going to work with this cheap screw and these flimsy rubber bands.

I was down.  I was dejected.  I hated rubber bands that were cheap.  I cursed myself for my love of cheap rubber bands.

I googled how to remove a stripped screw when rubber bands fail.  The next idea was to take your screwdriver and hammer it into the screw to create its own groove.  I decided to try it.  I didn't have a hammer but I found a pair of old, rusty heavy pliers.  I told myself it was basically the same thing.  I took the first swing with the large pliers against the small screwdriver.  I missed and hit my hand.

I believe it was at this point that I almost lost it.  But I heard God whisper to me Don't give up, I am going to see this through.  I wasn't in the greatest of moods, so I won't share my response.  But, I kept hammering with my pliers-turned-hammer and much to my amazement, when I turned the screwdriver, the screw began to turn.

It was working!  I hammered some more, and I turned the screw again. And again.  Eventually, the fourth screw came out and I was able to remove the entire mirror.  I laid face up on the carpet, stared at the ceiling and thanked God for getting me through this very trying ordeal.  I felt that perhaps it could have gone more smoothly without the mirror nearly taking my head off, but I didn't want to complain.

The next morning, before the movers arrived, I was cleaning out a nightstand next to my bed.  There, towards the back of the drawer was an Allen wrench.  Just for kicks, I decided to see if it fit the mirror.

It did.

God, I prayed, why didn't you tell me the Allen wrench was in the nightstand?  It would have been so much easier if you had, I don't know, TOLD ME IT WAS THERE ALL ALONG.

God quickly responded. My child, I don't need the right tools to perform a miracle.  

Then I remembered the fourth screw.  Only a flathead would have worked to remove it. God really is amazing.  I would have never gotten the mirror removed with the right tool.  I apologized for doubting Him and for, you know, being snippy.      

I knew God had a bigger point with me than how to remove a stripped screw.  Immediately, my mind went to all of the different people in scripture God used to perform miracles.  None of them were the perfect fit for the job.  Moses?  He was a terrible public speaker.  David?  Well, he was a hot mess for years before he got back on track.  Peter?  He cut off a soldier's ear and then denied knowing Jesus.  Their roads weren't easy and their decisions weren't perfect.  They were the flathead screwdrivers and the pliers-turned-hammer.  But, in the end, they were victorious because they did what God told them to do, even when it didn't make sense. 

They were the wrong choices on paper, but the right choices for the situation because of their obedience.  

I'm sure the soldiers questioned the method when they marched around the walls of Jericho seven times.  But, when the horns blew and the people shouted, the miracle happened and the walls came tumbling down.  Most people would use a different tool besides a horn to bring down a wall.  But, not our amazing God.

Your miracle might be right around the corner, but it may not look the way you think it should look.  It won't go the way you think it should go.  You may not have the right tools.  I am here to tell you, it doesn't matter.  God will make it happen in a way you don't anticipate.  You don't always know the problems that lie ahead, so that's why our only job is to simply do what He tells us to do.  He will take it from there.  

He loves us so much.