Does God Dance 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 were leftover baked beans. I grabbed a
Tupperware 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 I've made of things.  

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