Spilled Water

“If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love. For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted.”

~ Amy Carmichael

I rolled my eyes at the inconvenience and heaved a sigh of irritation. It wasn't a really a big deal and the offender took no notice, but continued instead to be a puddle of icy, cold snow water on the kitchen floor. It was only me who was bothered by the incident. No matter that I had actually been the one who did the stepping. In actuality, I was the offender, not the small amount of snow tracked into my kitchen on the bottom of someone's boot or shoe. The snow had been doing only what God made it to do, melt with rising temperatures. I could have been grateful, for it's presence indicates that my home is warm and cozy, but instead I grumbled at the cold, wet spot on my sock. I could have taken opportunity to smile, sit down in my blue chair with a cup of hot coffee, and put my feet up on a stool in front of the wood stove. My sock would have dried in a few minutes time. I could have turned the moment into a visit with my Lord and Savior, but instead my Bible sat, waiting and unread, on the dining room table.

And what of those I love? How often do I look upon them as I looked upon this puddle of ice water? When did I forget to take each and every opportunity and use it for the glory of the One who died in my place? Have I ever learned to do such a thing? Can He, will He, help me do just that? Only if I make myself willing and available. The real question is, will I?