Breaking down over a broken computer

Ugh.

Have you ever had one of those days that starts off beautifully—birds are chirping, you’re feeling good about everything on your to-do list, like the world is going your way. Then, out of nowhere you’re hit with a semi-truck that makes you want to pull out your “Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day” book and commiserate?

That was my Saturday. It started out lovely—waking up early, doing laundry, paying bills, making yogurt, baking bread. My husband worked all day on his papers due this week for finals, so for dinner we went out to this hip little Mexican shop where they were playing Feist and we got dessert and went to a coffee shop afterward. A cinema-worthy day, right? Totally.

But then we got home. We checked the mail, and I had a letter about my freelancer taxes not going through. This is an issue I’ve been trying to get fixed since September and has yet to be resolved. Then, I decided to take my laptop into the bedroom and snuggle in with a movie while Michael finished working on one of his papers. What happens? But I drop my laptop. And by drop, I mean it grows wings and flies out of my hands and crashes on the hardwood below. I have absolutely no idea how it happened except that when it did, I knew the thing was broken. Broken.

What did I do? I went in the bedroom and cried. I cried and told God how mad I was at him. Even typing it, I realize how not-a-big-deal these two incidents are. But at the time, they were huge with snarling mouths and glaring eyes.

At that moment, I was convinced: That I had messed up—yet again. That here I am trying to help us with our finances for the future, and instead I go and break something that costs hundreds of dollars to replace. That God was against me, not for me. Of course those are all lies (from Satan, “the father of lies,” John 8:44), but at the moment, I was convinced of them and consumed by them.

Then my husband edged into the bedroom. I was still fuming at God, at myself, when he crawled in bed and wrapped an arm around me. I know that God speaks himself and through the Bible, but he also speaks through other people. He was speaking through my husband during that time, as he was so understanding, so gentle, so encouraging while I poured out what I was feeling and all my anger.

As I did, the angst-filled fog began to clear. I saw that it’s just a computer. I saw how many good things we have and how many blessings we’ve received, time and time again—how this doesn’t even compare to those good things. I saw how limited my perspective was, and how I have no idea what God has in store. I began to trust him again.

Then, I felt the peace of God, that “which transcends all understanding.” (Philippians 4:7) We crawled under the covers and I apologized to God for my hissy fit, for my lack of faith and my lack of trust in him. I apologized to my husband for my unjustified anger over things that don’t merit it one bit. And to my surprise, I slept so soundly, and woke up with that peace still covering me like a warm, cozy blanket. What a gracious heavenly Father we have.