IS GOD DANCING ON YOUR POTATO CHIPS?

Not too long ago I had "one of those days." I was feeling pressure from
a writing deadline. I had company arriving in a couple days and the
toilet was clogged. I went to the bank, and the trainee teller
processing my deposit had to start over three times. I swung by the
supermarket to pick up a few things and the lines were serpentine. By
the time I got home, I was frazzled and sweaty and in a hurry to get
something on the table for dinner.

Deciding on Campbell's Cream of Mushroom soup, I grabbed a can opener,
cranked open the can, then remembered I had forgotten to buy milk at the
store. Nix the soup idea. Setting the can aside, I went to plan B, which
was leftover baked beans. I grabbed the Tupperware container from the
fridge, popped the seal, took a look and groaned. My husband isn't a
picky eater, but even HE won't eat baked beans that look like
caterpillars.

Really frustrated now, I decided on a menu that promised to be as
foolproof as it is nutrition-free: hot dogs and potato chips. Retrieving
a brand new bag of chips from the cupboard, I grabbed the cellophane and
gave a hearty pull. The bag didn't open. I tried again. Nothing
happened. I took a breath, doubled my muscle, and gave the bag a hearty
wrestle. With a loud pop, the cellophane suddenly gave way, ripping wide
from top to bottom. Chips flew sky high. I was left holding the bag, and
it was empty.

It was the final straw. I let out a blood curdling scream. "I CAN'T TAKE
IT ANYMORE!" My husband heard my unorthodox cry for help. Within minutes
he was standing at the doorway to the kitchen, where he surveyed the
damage: an opened can of soup, melting groceries, moldy baked beans, and
one quivering wife standing ankle deep in potato chips. My husband did
the most helpful thing he could think of at the moment. He took a flying
leap, landing flat-footed in the pile of chips. And then he began to
stomp and dance and twirl, grinding those chips into my linoleum in the
process!

I stared. I fumed. Pretty soon I was working to stifle a smile.
Eventually I had to laugh. And finally I decided to join him. I, too,
took a leap onto the chips. And then I danced. Now I'll be the first to
admit that my husband's response wasn't the one I was looking for. But
the truth is, it was exactly what I needed. I didn't need a cleanup crew
as much as I needed an attitude adjustment, and the laughter from that
rather funky moment provided just that.

So now I have a question for you, and it's simply this: Has God ever
stomped on your chips? I know that, in my life, there have been plenty
of times when I've gotten myself into frustrating situations and I've
cried out for help, all the while hoping God would show up with a
celestial broom and clean up the mess.

What often happens instead is that God dances on my chips, answering my
prayer in a completely different manner than I had expected, but in the
manner that is best for me after all. Sometimes I can see right away
that God's response was the best one after all. Sometimes I have to wait
weeks or months before I begin to understand how and why God answered a
particular prayer the way he did. There are even some situations that,
years later, I'm still trying to understand. I figure God will fill me
in sooner or later, either this side of Heaven or beyond.

Do I trust Him? Even when he's answering my prayers in a way that is
completely different from my expectations? Even when he's dancing and
stomping instead of sweeping and mopping? Can I embrace what He's
offering? Can I let His joy adjust my attitude? Am I going to stand on
the sidelines and sulk, or am I willing to learn the steps of the dance
he's dancin' with my needs in mind? I'll be honest with you: Sometimes I
sulk. Sometimes I dance. I'm working on doing more of the latter than
the former. I guess the older I get the more I realize that He really
does know what He's doing. He loves me and I can trust Him. Even when
the chips are down.

-- Author Unknown