Some of the contents of the inside and from the outside of the recently departed fridge.

 

I've had a few days lately that have made me wonder what is up with me and God's communication. Life is life... and sometimes it just piles up like a stack of dishes being dirtied by my family on a snow day with only me picking up the sponge and Dawn to clean. 

 

Last week, our refrigerator became "a dead appliance running" so to speak when it suddenly stopped pushing out cold air. After tossing out over a hundred bucks of groceries, K decided to give it one last chance to cool by turning the temp to 9 and banning us from so much as cracking it open the width of a Kraft single. And to my amazement, it haltingly came back to life... with only one major problem: it froze everything. So when got some fresh almond milk and spinach and yogurt to replace the spoiled stuff, it all became blocks of ice (or in the spinach's case, leaves of ice). Let me tell you, by the way, once almond milk frreezes, it's a wrap. The end result is like curdles of white stuff afloat a clear oily liquid. 

 

In the meantime, I filed a work order with our building management company, and the super came and confirmed that the fridge was indeed, destined for the dump. I was sent an email by management stating a new fridge should arrive by the end of the work week. Except, it didn't. 

 

I had other things to do anyway: an oncology appointment with my mom; a trip to my PCP for a script for bloodwork; going to the lab for said bloodwork. A few homeschool fails with Zoe, a scolding voicemail from my grandmother about my failure to not return her previous call (so now I have messed up twice), and by yesterday, I was complaining to K about feeling guilty for failing at... life. Tears began to flow when, in the middle of my rant, I vocalized some subconscious anxiety- about the February anniversary of his dad's death in 2017 and my dad's March 2015 passing. Life is short, and I'm handling life as well as our fridge was our vanilla almond milk smoothies.

 

Psalm 44:23 laments: "Awake, Lord! Why do you sleep? Rouse yourself! Do not reject us forever." I'm totally feeling this verse right now. While the vagaries of my life aren't inspiring questions on God's existence, they totally have me wondering, like the Psalmist, if maybe the Almighty is catching some late-winter shut eye.

 

The "new" fridge was hooked up yesterday. I mean it's the oldest looking new fridge I've ever seen (or loudly heard), but it's here. I'm feeling a bit like Judy Blume's eponymous Margaret, at the end of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. who prays to God: "I know you're there God. I know you wouldn't have missed this for anything! Thank you God. Thanks an awful lot…"