Well, new to me, anyway. This was a major milestone in my life, because it’s the first time I’ve ever gone by myself to buy a car. I wasn’t sure what to look for, and since I know very little about cars and motors and how they get from point A to point B, I was a little nervous.

I started with the most important decision first: the color. I wanted a red car. Now, I’ve never really been a red kind of person. Blue is my favorite color. But red is a strong color, and since I seem to be going through some sort of mid-life thing, I decided now would be a good time to reinvent myself.

A red convertible. Yep, that’s what I needed. Especially since I’m growing my hair out . . . I could just see myself cruising down the highway in my cool shades, long hair a’flappin’, leaving all those SUV’s and sedans in my dust. I closed my eyes, pictured it in my mind, and smiled and smiled. Self re-invented: stronger, bolder, more capable, more confident. And in my mental picture, I was lookin’ good.

I kept smiling until another car invaded the dream . . . a police car with red and blue flashing lights. Then I opened my eyes and decided to re-think the whole convertible thing. Besides, I’ve ridden in convertibles enough to know my hair would never arrive at my destination intact.

No . . . I decided a convertible wasn’t for me, after all. But red, yes. Definitely red. And sporty and sleek. Maybe a Corvette . . .

Next came the research phase of my car-buying experience. I asked friends what kinds of cars they drove, and what their experiences were. I read consumer reports. I read reviews. I called my long-time friend, Mike the mechanic, and asked him what to look for in a car. I’m glad I did, because he gave me a list of things to check for when buying a used car—things I’d have never thought to check without that list. Oil. Coolant. Rubber hoses. Tiny dents. Tire tread.

Before that, all I was really looking for was color and a stereo system that worked. Yeah . . .

Finally, it was time for me to go car-shopping. At an actual dealer. I called the dealer several days before I showed up and told him what I was looking for. Red. Sporty. Good fuel economy. Low mileage. I prayed and asked God to find me the perfect car, and give me everything on my list.

Wouldn’t ya know, the dealer had several cars that fit my description. But there was one more specification I’d forgotten to mention: I didn’t want to finance the car. I had some money tucked away, and with my trade-in, I wanted to pay cash. I had a certain amount I was willing to spend, and I refused to go any higher. After all, what’s the use in saving $150 a month in gas if I’m adding a $200 car payment? Might as well keep my current car and pay the fuel prices.

While he did have some old, smelly, stained-up clunkers I could afford, I wasn’t interested. None of them were red. Or Corvettes. Or even cute.

Back to the drawing board. I went home disappointed, but determined. That’s when I decided to list my car on Craig’s list, to see if I could get more for it than I could on a trade-in. And while I was on Craig’s list, I saw something that caught my eye . . .

A 2002 Toyota Prius. Forty-three thousand miles. Owned by an eighty-five year-old grandmother. Garage kept; she literally drove it to the grocery store and back for eleven years.

From the pictures, it looked like a brand new car. But it wasn’t red.

Did I mention blue is my favorite color?

I called the number listed, and the owner invited me to come look at it right then. I did.

The car was even prettier in person than in the pictures. It’s an elegant, pearly blue that just makes something in my spirit feel settled and calm. Not a single stain or mark was in the interior. New tires. New battery. Nice stereo system. And it drives even better than a Corvette. And it gets nearly forty miles to the gallon, baby.

Not only that, but I forgot to tell you I’m a bit claustrophobic, and cars with a center console extending to the dashboard make me feel closed in. This car’s console stops where the seats end, making it feel more spacious.

Even better, I was able to pay cash for the car, right then and there. And I still have my car to sell, to replace the money. If anybody is interested in a suh-weet deal on a 2004 GMC Envoy, leather interior, all the bells and whistles, my editor will be glad to take a message for you. I hope.

All this to say, I learned a lesson that day. I wanted to reinvent myself, but God had other plans. He doesn’t see a need to reinvent me; He made me exactly the way He wanted me the first time around. He just wants to help me become the best, most beautiful me I can be.

I wanted to be red, but He knew blue suited me more. He knew I wanted the bold, in-your-face confidence of a red Corvette, but He reminded me that the soft, unassuming confidence of a pearl-moon-blue Prius was a more flattering fit. The car God found me was not exactly what I prayed for, but everything I hoped for. Everything I needed, and more.

It makes me wonder what other exciting things God has in store for my future. His plans may not always fill my wish list, but that’s okay. I know His plans for me are even better than mine, and they’ll always be a perfect match for me.

“No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has imagined what God has in store for those who love him,” 1 Corinthians 2:9.

Little did I know, however, that taking my child along would cause me to spend even more after I got to the register. After my groceries had been rung up. After I’d already paid for my items. And not because anybody sneaked anything or begged for anything.

No. That would be too cliché.

The other day, I spent more money simply because my teenage daughter is too pretty.

Let me elaborate. The cashier just happened to be a teen boy. And though he tried to play it cool, I caught him looking at my daughter when he didn’t think she was looking. I caught him smiling to himself when his back was turned toward her, but schooling his features when he faced her. And best of all . . . she was clueless.

I thought the whole thing was pretty cute. I was enjoying the ordeal—him smiling and turning away when he thought she might be looking, her looking at everything on the register except him . . . until I handed him my check.

Yes, I still write checks. The old fashioned kind. Don’t judge.

Anyway, I handed the boy the check. While he sneaked another look at my daughter, his fingers punched something into the register. Then he said . . . “Oh . . . I think I did that wrong.”

And then he called for a manager.

We waited. And waited and waited.

He called again. We waited some more. The girl child, who was the cause of all this and still had no idea, was comparing gum flavors and humming something from Disney’s “Tangled.”

Finally, a manager came. “I rang it up as cash,” he told her.

“You’ll have to re-ring it all,” she said.

I thought she was kidding. He thought she was kidding.

She wasn’t kidding.

Now, you’ve got to understand this wasn’t one of those quick, in-and-out grocery store trips. This was one of those overflowing basket trips, where you really need a second basket but by the time you realize you need the other basket you’re way in the back of the store, so you just keep piling stuff up in the basket you have.

This was all rung up, bagged, and placed back in the basket, ready to be pushed to my car. It all had to be taken out of the bags, re-rung, placed back in the bags  . . . you get the picture.

I patted my hair and looked around for the Candid Camera guy. He never came.

Girl child flipped through a copy of People, still humming.

And the poor cashier looked like he wanted to jump in the nearest sinkhole.

So I did the only thing I could do. I waited while all my groceries were removed from their bags and re-rung. And I thought how handy it is, in times like these, that I am a writer with my own column. At least this week, I didn’t have to figure out what to write about. I considered telling the young man to look for himself in the paper this Friday, but he looked miserable enough already.

And then came the cherry on top. After all was said and done, my groceries rang up for a penny more than they had the first time.

I looked at my already written check, then back at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

He wasn’t kidding. He did, however, look even more mortified, and his face was a shade of red I didn’t know existed. I dug in my purse, pulled out a penny, and handed it to him along with my check.

Try as I might, I haven’t yet been able to come up with a moral to this story. What is the lesson here?

I don’t know. I just don’t know. If you figure it out, please e-mail my editor.

I do know that God is infinitely patient with me. At times, He must look at me the same way I looked at that cashier and say, “You’re kidding, right?”

But He never loses His cool with me, or storms away, or gives up on me. Instead, He waits patiently and smiles.

And after all He’s already done for me, and all I’ve put Him through, I have the nerve to ask Him for more. At which time, He often reaches deep into His pockets and pulls out that extra blessing, not because He has to, but because He wants to. He loves me, and He longs to bless me.

“But You, O Lord, are a God of compassion, and gracious, long-suffering, and plentiful in mercy and truth,” Psalm 86:5.

But you know how it goes with the best-laid plans of mice and young men . . . It took a little longer to order the movie than he thought. Which meant he was late getting the oven pre-heated, and the pre-heating took a little longer than expected. Before we knew it, the movie was starting and the pizza still wasn’t done.

But our party planner refused to accept any delay. Out came the pizza, in spite of the fact it still had seven minutes left to cook. He sliced it, put it on a tray, and pronounced it ready to eat. On time.

There was just one teensy little problem. The dough wasn’t cooked. If our young chef had just had a little more patience, we could have eaten a delicious pizza with our movie.  Instead, we had a chewy, dough-y mess.

You see, there’s a purpose for following the directions on the box. Mr. DiGiorno knows his pizza, and he knows how long it takes it to cook. When we try to eat it before it’s ready, we forfeit cheesy, Italian goodness for an unappetizing blob.

Life is kind of that way, when we don’t wait for God’s timing. We get impatient and try to rush ahead of God. We ignore His wisdom, ignore His instructions, all because we want what we want and we want it now.

But like Mr. DiGiorno, God knows His business. He knows how long something will take before it’s truly ready to be enjoyed. When we try to rush ahead of God and forget to wait on His timing, we end up with a mess, and we forfeit the beautiful blessings that might have been ours.

Take the Israelites, for example. When God led them out of Egypt and into the Promised Land, they wandered around the desert for forty years! Then, when they were sooooo, so close to their goal, God told them they’d have to wait a little bit longer.

You see, the Promised Land was occupied by the Hivites, the Canaanites, and the Hittites. And although God promised to drive those people out, He didn’t do it all at once. He told Moses there were too many wild animals in the area, and if all the other people left at once, the Israelites would be overrun by wildlife and they wouldn’t survive. So God drove the opposing nations out a few people at a time, while the Israelites grew in number and strength.

If they had gotten impatient and tried to occupy their land right away, the results would have been devastating. The Israelites were patient. They waited on God’s timing, and eventually they won their Promised Land.

In that case, God saw fit to tell them why they couldn’t have what they wanted right away. But He doesn’t always feel the need to share the details of His plans with us. And we get impatient, because waiting is sooooo, so hard.

Still, we can always know that God’s plans for us are good, and He knows best. Instead of rushing ahead of Him and eating raw pizza, we can relax. We can be still and know that He is God, He’s in control, and His timing is perfect.

“But I will not drive them out in a single year, because the land would become desolate and the wild animals too numerous for you. Little by little I will drive them out before you, until you have increased enough to take possession of the land,” Exodus 23:29 – 30.

Of course, there are some things we can do to increase our chances of meeting our goals. It’s been found that men succeed more often when they set small, specific, achievable goals. For example, “I’m going to lose two pounds this month” is a better goal than “I’m going to lose this big belly by the end of the year.” And women are more likely to succeed when they share their goals with a friend, and ask for help.

But even then, only twelve percent of us succeed. Thus, my pan of brownies. Then again, I suppose I could strategically form my list of goals, hoping I’ll fail. After all, if most of us fail to keep our resolutions, why not make them with failure in mind? Yes, that’s what I’m going to do.

In 2013, I plan to:

1. Gain weight.
2. Exercise less.
3. Spend less time with family and friends.
4. Go deeper into debt.
5. Stress out over everything.
6. Relax less.
7. Become less organized.

If I fail to meet these goals, then by the end of the year I’ll be skinnier, healthier, happier, and more relaxed. The way I see it, I statistically have a much greater chance of failure than of success. Here’s hoping I fail.

Even though I may fail at my own plans, I know that God has great plans for my life. And more than anything, He wants to see me succeed. His plans for me are often different from my own agenda. But even though His goals for me might be different than the goals I have for myself, I know His goals are better. You see, God doesn’t really care if I have a lot of money. He wants me to be wealthy in spirit. He doesn’t really care what I look like in a swimsuit, but He does care what my soul looks like under pressure.

Yes, His plans are always good ones. He wants me to have peace. Integrity. A kind and loving spirit. He is my biggest cheerleader, and He’s already given me everything I need to succeed. He’s made the plan clear to me in His Word, and as long as I stick with that plan, I’ll achieve every good thing that He wants for my life. Success is guaranteed.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,” Jeremiah 29:11.

The girl child scored big. New jeans. New blouses. Jewelry. Smell-goods. The list goes on and on. And because we bought it after Christmas, most of it was at least 60% off. Not too shabby.

I didn’t do badly, either, though I only had one thing on my shopping list.

Pajamas.

That’s right. Every year I like to buy the comfy, cutesy, cozy kind of pajamas that invite evenings of curling up in front of the fire with a cup of hot cocoa and a good book. Not that we have many occasions to build a fire here in Texas. But it’s the thought that counts, right? The kind of pajamas that cover more than a nun’s habit, that keep you warm even when you accidentally kick the covers off in the middle of the night. That’s the kind of jammies I like to buy right after Christmas, when I can get them for 75% off or more.

I don’t always sleep well. There’s something about getting my body still that makes my brain go into Zumba mode. But there’s just something about new, soft jammies that make me feel peaceful, as if all is right with the world, even if it isn’t. For some reason, when I’m wearing brand-new jammies, I feel wrapped in comfort, and I sleep a little better.

It’s a kind of game I play every year, to see what kinds of high-fallutin’ brand name jammies I can get for a next-to-nothing price. This year, I got two sets – one flannel, one cotton – originally priced at $60 a set, from Macy’s. Wanna know how much I paid for them?

Do you?

Yeah, I know you do.

I paid $15 a set. Seventy-five percent off, baby. Not bad. And every night since then, I’ve slept like a baby.

Especially when you consider babies don’t sleep that well . . . but they sure do dress comfy!

But even if I hadn’t found my bargain jammies this year, and had to settle for the old ones from last year, it would be okay. Even in faded, dryer-worn pajamas, I can feel wrapped in comfort and love. After all, the true Source of peace and rest isn’t found in fabric content. It’s found in the One who created me, Who loves me more than anything.

That’s right. When I can’t sleep, He wraps His giant arms around me and gently rocks my soul. He sings soft lullabies into my spirit, and whispers words of comfort and assurance that all is well. And I don’t even have to wait for the after-Christmas sales; His tender mercies are new every day, and He already paid the price. All I have to do is be still, and let Him envelop me with His unending, peace-filled love. And that, my friends, makes for much better rest than a new set of jammies.

“Come to me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” Matthew 11:28.

It started out innocently enough. Ironically, I was encouraged to open a Facebook account several years ago for professional purposes. To make business contacts and build readership. But then, all these people from my past started popping up! My high school music teacher? We’re now Facebook friends. Elementary school chums? Yep. We’re connected. I even learned that my friend Vickie, from elementary school, grew up to be none other than Anna Nicole Smith! Seriously. I’m not kidding. We were in the same class from third through fifth grade. Sweet girl, and I’m still sad when I think of how her story turned out. But that’s another article.

Now I have over 1,200 “friends”, many of whom I’ve never met face-to-face. Needless to say, it’s a huge distraction. Just now, when I logged onto Facebook to find out how many “friends” I had, I forgot I was just logging on to do research for this article. I had to scroll through the news feed, find out what Robin and Tiffany are having for dinner, comment on Ben’s nice-looking set of teeth now that his braces are off, and check how many people had “liked” my last status. Ten minutes later, I remembered this article.

And don’t even get me started on Words with Friends. It’s the online, interactive version of Scrabble. So easy to cheat, too, but don’t ask me how I know that. Of course I never cheat. I’m a writer. Words are my business. Why would I need to cheat at Scrabble?

Ahem.

Besides, they really should change the name to Words with Opponents. There are no friends when it comes to Scrabble. My goal is to crush my opponents beyond any shred of dignity and leave them crying like little girls.

I mean, it’s a nice, friendly online game. Educational, and all that. Yeah, that’s what I meant to say.

Anyway, back to my original point. I am addicted. So a couple of days ago, I decided to detox from Facebook and Words with Friends. I deactivated my Facebook account and resigned all my WWF games, letting my opponents win. Now that was hard.

I made it almost 48 hours before I logged onto my daughter’s Facebook account to check up on all our mutual friends. But since we only have a handful of mutual friends, that didn’t take long, and I was still left wondering what Robin and Tiffany were having for dinner.

So this morning, I reactivated my account. But you know what, the last couple of days were kind of nice. I had more free time. I was more focused on my family. And I was more present in everything I did. I’ve decided to make a new rule for myself. I’m only allowed to interact with my online friends when my in-the-flesh friends and family aren’t around. They deserve my full attention. I don’t want to be remembered for the way the top of my head looked, as I was posting a new status using my i-phone.

I’m so glad God is always fully present for me. Can you imagine what life would be like if, every time I went to God with some new crisis, big or small, He said, “Hold on. I need to check Facebook and see what Mary and Martha are making for dinner.” He never does that. Every time I step into His presence, it’s as if He drops everything and treats me like I’m the most important thing He’s got going on. He listens. He comforts. He gives wisdom. He laughs with me, cries with me, and genuinely cares about my every thought, my every concern.

I’m going to do my best to follow His example, and show that kind of love to the people He’s placed in my life. And, while I’m getting things right, I suppose I’ll try very hard not to bamboozle anyone at Words with Opponents. Not that I would ever need to do that.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble,” Psalm 46:1.

And I haven’t made a “thankful” list, either. Yes, I know. Shame on me, especially considering how much I have to be thankful for. So in an effort to get myself and everyone around me in the holiday spirit, here is my top ten list of things I’m thankful for this year.

1. I’m thankful for coffee. And peppermint flavored creamer.
2. I’m thankful for the towel bar in my bathroom that hangs right above my scales. If I hold onto that bar, I can shave a good ten pounds off my weight.
3. I’m thankful for corny Hallmark channel movies.
4. I’m thankful for cinnamon-apple-scented candles. They make the house smell like pie, but without the calories.
5. I’m thankful for a ten-year-old boy who mows the lawn.
6. I’m thankful for a teenage daughter who keeps me from making too many fashion mistakes.
7. I’m thankful for my denim jacket. It makes almost any outfit look hip and cool.
8. I’m thankful for longtime friends who I don’t have to impress.
9. I’m thankful for a family and friends who would do just about anything for me if I needed them to.

10. I’m thankful for a hardworking husband.

11. I’m thankful for a car that runs.

12. I’m thankful for the money to fix that car when it decides not to run.

13. I’m thankful for a warm, soft bed to sleep in, and big, thick fluffy blankets.

14. I’m thankful for central heat and air. This time of year in Texas, you never know which one you’ll need on any given day.

15. I’m thankful for electricity. It makes life a whole lot simpler.

16. I’m thankful for good health.

17. I’m thankful for people to love, and people who love me.

18. I’m thankful for a gracious, compassionate God who sees me, who knows my heart, and who cares about exactly what I’m going through at any given moment. I’m thankful that He goes through it all with me.

All right, all right. I know I listed more than ten, and I could have listed a whole lot more. Truly, I have much to be thankful for. Once I started the list, the thankfulness just kept coming and coming, increasing with each new item. I don’t know why we wait until November to focus on thankfulness, for His care for us is constant, every day of the year, every second of the day, from now until eternity.

“Give thanks to the Lord for He is good. His love endures forever,” Psalm 136:1.

But none of that really mattered, for as I waited in line, I saw several of my friends that I don’t get to see very often. We chatted and sipped our coffee, just like we’d made the appointment on purpose. And even the people I didn’t know when I got in line became fun acquaintances by the time I left. We snickered about the empty candy machines somebody should have filled before Election Day. We tweeted and face booked about how everyone seemed to be tweeting and face booking about his or her voting experiences.

But you know what was really cool?

Not one person asked me whom I was voting for. Not one single person. We laughed and smiled and talked about our kids and our cars and the weather, and everyone seemed to genuinely enjoy the process.

Now, I’m not naive enough to think that all those nice people around me voted for the same person as I did. But isn’t that what we tell ourselves sometimes? The nice, smart, intelligent people are the ones who think like we do. The dumb, socially backward, mean, awkward people are the ones who voted for the other guy. Right?

Right?

Be honest.

Since we’re being honest here, I’ll just tell you the truth. My guy didn’t win. And I’m really disappointed about that. But rather than hang my head and grumble about the results, I’m holding my head high. I’m proud to live in a country where we can all be so different, and yet the same. I’m proud to live in a nation where my voice is heard. And I’m also proud to live in a nation where the other guy’s voice is heard, even if I don’t like what he says.

And most of all, I’m proud to live in a place where our sameness bonds us together, in spite of our differences. I don’t think I saw one person, standing in that line the other day, who wouldn’t fight to defend our country’s freedom, no matter what it took.

The whole election process reminded me of an important truth, though. My citizenship here in the grand old U. S. of A. is temporary. One day, I’ll move to another place . . . the place of my permanent citizenship. In that place, there won’t be any long voting lines. There are no elections, for its ruler is also permanent. God, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords is a merciful, compassionate ruler, gracious and loving, generous and kind.

And the economy there is out of this world! We’re talking, streets of gold, people. And each citizen of that place will have his or her own room in the king’s house . . . a room prepared by the Prince himself. And when we arrive, we’ll be crowned and welcomed, not as mere citizens, but as part of the king’s own family.

I know all these things because the king Himself told me so. Yep. He wrote me a long letter, called The Holy Bible. The more I read it, the more excited I get about all the good things waiting for me. Plus, I already have access to much of the king’s treasury, right here, right now.

Read for yourself. You can have access to it too.

“The Lord has established His throne in heaven, and His kingdom rules over all,” Psalm 103:19.

Correction: I am organizing my office space. Something can’t be re-organized unless it’s been organized to begin with. And since I’m not like all of you perfectly left-brained, linear thinkers out there who have a place for everything and everything in its place, I’ve decided to get some help.

I’ve hired a professional organizer.

Yes, I did.

This is proving to be the bargain of the century for me, because my new friend isn’t just helping me put things neatly into boxes to hide in the garage. I could do that. Have done that, too many times. No, my organizing lady is talking to me, learning about my personality, and trying to figure out what will work best for me.

For example, we’ve learned that drawers aren’t a good organizing tool for me. At least not when it comes to filing. My past file drawer has consisted of a pile of papers I knew I needed to keep, but didn’t have a place for. So they got stuffed and crammed and wrinkled into a drawer. Then, it was “out of sight, out of mind.”

Our conversation went something like this:

Her: How do you find stuff?

Me: I take everything out and go through the pile. I know what’s in there. I just have to dig through and find it.

Her: Why don’t you put things in folders?

Me: Because then I inevitably put stuff in the wrong folder, and I’ll never see it again. Besides, I can never make folders stand up like they’re supposed to, and they fall down in the drawer.

Her: What about hanging folders?

Me: I loathe hanging folders. Stuff gets in between, where there’s not actually a folder, and slides to the bottom of the drawer, and I never see it again.

I could tell I was a challenge to her. But hey, there’s no point setting up a system that’s not going to work in the long run, is there? Together, we’re coming up with a plan that I think will actually work for me.

One of the most exciting things she’s making me do though, is moving all my handwritten addresses from my spiral-bound, polka-dotted address book to a computer program I have, that organizes contacts. This program was in my computer when I bought it four years ago, but I never took the time to learn how to use it. It’s just been sitting there, waiting to be accessed, while I’ve been scrambling to find that little pink-and-blue dotted address book every time I needed it. Then I had to sort through all the mark-outs and address changes, and search through the alphabetized list that wasn’t really alphabetized, because how do you really keep things in ABC order in one of those books?

I mean, really. I can’t say to my friends, “I’m sorry, Mr. Abdo. I can’t take your number. I’ve already written Mr. Applebaum’s information, and there’s no room above his name.” No. You just add the name below the previous one, and you have all the ABC’s on one page and all the DEF’s on the next. And then somebody gets married and changes their name, or they move and change their address, and before you know it the whole book is a big, scratched out mess.

But now, all my addresses are neat and organized alphabetically in my computer. And I don’t have to insert them alphabetically; it does that for me. And any time there’s a change, I just have to click on that person’s name and edit the info.

And since my computer is always on my desk, I don’t have to go searching for it the way I did the address book. Any time I need an address or phone number, I know right where to go. Plus, this program will sync to my laptop and phone, so I have the information all the time. But I’m still figuring out how to sync . . .

My point is, I’ve had this wonderful tool sitting in my computer all this time, and I haven’t been taking advantage of it. Instead I’ve been plodding through with my little spiral, scratch-out system. How silly is that? How many wasted hours have I spent, stressing because I couldn’t find what I needed, when the perfect system was right at my fingertips?

You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?

God’s Word is filled with the perfect tools to help us through life. His promises are like coupons we can cash in. Stressed out? We just pull out His Word and say, “God, You promised me peace. I could use some of it now, please.”

Or if we’re confused or perplexed, we pull out His Word and say, “Right here, God. You promised to give me wisdom if I asked for it. Well, I’m asking now.” And He will give it.

The more we study His Word and apply it to our lives, the smoother our paths will be. Not that our lives will be perfect. But with God’s Word, we have the proper tools to navigate the trouble spots.

All too often, though, I’ve treated God’s Word like I treated my computer’s contact program. I know it’s there, but I don’t take the time to learn to use it properly. Instead, I muddle through life with my less-than-efficient ways of doing things, and I stay stressed out and bogged down.

Starting today, I’m going to be more efficient with my life. I’m going to take a little extra time to read God’s Word. I’ll search out His promises and cash them in. After all, what good is it to have such a perfect resource at our fingertips, if we never actually use it?

“He is a faithful God, who keeps His promise and is merciful to thousands of generations of those who love Him and obey His commands,” Deuteronomy 7:9.

Which is why, when my children ask me for help with math, I offer them a frightened, deer-in-the-headlights expression followed by approximately thirty seconds of a zombie-like stare. That usually sends them on their way.

But not yesterday. No. Yesterday, the boy child was confused about fractions, and he needed help. And since I was the only one around to help him, I decided to grit my teeth, roll up my sleeves, and just do it.

Nike, move over.

I figured, “Fractions? How hard can they be?”

I got out a blank sheet of paper and a medicine cap and traced twelve circles on the page. Pies, you know. Chocolate. I then proceeded to slice those pies into various sizes. One of them was divided in half, the next into thirds, the next into fourths, and so on. You get the picture. I was feeling pretty smart.

We then had a long discussion about if I ate one half of a pie and boy child ate five sevenths of a pie, who ate more pie? Not that it would matter. We’d both be sick. But after a few pie questions, the boy seemed to understand fractions about as well as I do, so we moved on to his actual assignment.

First question: Which is greater, 42/56 or 28/35?

What?????

Who in their right mind slices a pie into fifty-six pieces? Or even thirty-five pieces, for that matter? If you’re going to cut the pieces that small, why bother?

Needless to say, boy child and I both became very frustrated. I personally got so stressed I wanted to eat the whole chocolate pie by myself, in one sitting. But I reminded myself that I am smart, I reminded the boy that he is smart, and we decided together that we could do this.

That’s when the lightbulb moment came. Call it an epiphany, or whatever. I looked at the boy child and asked, “Son, what grade are you in?”

“Fifth grade.”

“Well, that’s where we’ve been going wrong. In fifth grade, you don’t get those one-step problems any more. You know, the kind where you look at the question and you know the answer right away. No, son. In fifth grade and beyond, you have to work multiple-step problems. So instead of getting frustrated because we can’t find the solution right away, we need to just figure out what to do first. Then after the first step, we can figure out the next step, and so on. So lets look at this problem and figure out what we can do first, to decide which one is bigger.”

Together we reduced, divided, then reduced and divided some more, until we had our answer. Don’t ask me the answer now. I don’t remember, and I don’t feel like working the problem again.

But while we were doing those ridiculously hard pie problems, I realized that even math can carry meaningful life lessons. Most problems in life aren’t the easy kind. Most can’t be solved with one step. And when we realize that, we tend to get frustrated and give up.

But those hard problems become doable when we break them into chunks. When life seems overwhelming, we don’t have to fix it all at once. We just have to figure out the first step. And once we’ve accomplished that first step, we can figure out the next step, and so on and so on. As long as we keep moving forward, we’ll eventually succeed.

And if we mess up one of the steps, that’s okay, too. We just back up and start that step again. As long as we’re moving in the right direction, we can feel good about our progress.

Another important life lesson to remember, though, is that we have a tutor who actually knows the subject matter: life. And, He knows how to teach us so we’ll understand. As long as we listen to Him, we’ll ace those hard problems with flying colors.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to him,” James 1:5.