What do you do when you find yourself stuck with no snow brush and enough snow on your car to make aÃ‚ respectable snowman?
It was 9:30 at night, the coldest night of the year so far, and Grace was awake at home, waiting for me to arrive and put her to bed.
As usual, I was wearing a thin short-sleeve t-shirt, no coat, no gloves, and no socks. I knew we were supposed to get snow, but I didn’t think about it.
The blower inside my car was useless.
Not sure what else to do, I balanced on the snowbank created by the hotel’s snow blower earlier in the day, one bare foot raised in the air, perched on the opposite thigh, like a flamingo but fatter.
Snow filled the holes in my Croc and anchored me to the snowbank, preventing me from losing my balance.
I scraped the driver’s side, shook the snow out of my shoe, put it back on, and repeated the process on the passenger side. Just before I finished, the windshield wipers sprung to life and covered me with snow.
While I warmed in the car, I scribbled this post on a giant envelope, junk mail I’d neglected to throw in the trash. By the time I was finished writing, the heater had warmed my toes and hands and arms.
Laughter warmed my soul, and He warmed my heart.
Being unprepared seems to be a theme in my life. It’s okay. I don’t mind because it’s the result of my eagerness, of motivation, of a mind consumed with ideas, with results, with what could be.
Even more, it’s okay because it’s in the folly of my unpreparedness that Jesus finds me.
He picks me up. He dusts me off. He reminds me that I am unprepared for this life, unprepared for eternal life.
He reminds me that I cannot do everything. I cannot be everything. I cannot please everyone.
He reminds me that I am not enough.
I am not enough, but He is enough. In Him, I have all I need.
© 2011, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.