One Little Corner.

I almost broke the shower door yesterday. I slammed it really, really hard.

I didn’t slam it to make a fuss.
I didn’t slam it in petulance.
I didn’t slam it in carelessness.

I slammed it because Rich had repaired it. You see, one of the little wheelie-gizmos in the upper track had become squared off, one arc snapped into a straight line, and so the door no longer glided.

It scraped along, complaining all the way.

And it so happened that the wheelie-gizmo squared itself at a time when Rich was exceptionally busy with his work, so the door remained sticky and hard to operate for a few weeks.

Broken seemed normal to me. I expected the door to be intractable, to require a tremendous yank to yield. I settled right into life with a broken shower door.

In an astonishingly brief period, I adapted to its brokenness. 

I need to remember that shower door. I need to remember how busted seemed just fine and right and orderly.

I need to remember that broken isn’t normal.

17 Let Your hand be upon the man of Your right hand,
Upon the son of man whom You made strong for Yourself.
18 Then we shall not turn back from You;
Revive us, and we will call upon Your name.
19 O Lord God of hosts, restore us;
Cause Your face to shine upon us, and we will be saved.
Psalm 80:17-19 (NASB)