What do you get when you cross a loose garage stud with two overstuffed shelves of paint, spackle, wallpaper glue, and extra bathroom tiles?

I wish I had taken a picture.

But I was so awestruck by the magnitude of yellow paint and plaster all over the garage and the rear end of my van.

Want to hear the best part of the story? There is no running water outside our home because every hose is frozen. I felt like Ma Ingalls, hauling bucket after bucket of water from the kitchen sink to the garage.

But all is well. The damage could have been much worse. No one was standing under the paint when it decided to take a flying leap of its own. And the only casualties - my favorite pair of jeans, lots of rags, four split cans of paint, one wall-mounted sprinkler system, and my pride as all the neighbors watched me scrub the driveway. In winter. In Northern Nevada.

One other casualty - a quiet evening dinner with Craig and the kids. I had to apologize for snapping at all of them. That's the only part that's not funny two days later. We had a good discussion about trying to be "in control" of situations, and how when I'm not in control, I go into "sequester and submit" mode where everything gets put in its place until control is restored. Nothing but sin, ugly, dirty sin. As I always ask the children when they sin, in that moment, what need was I trying to meet apart from God? The need for control. Security. Predictability.

It's amazing how an explosion of paint can reveal layers of dirt in me.

And this morning, I'm amazed at God's restoration, full and complete, that invites me away from shame and into freedom. As I walk in His strength today, I'm praying for less paint and more fruit, less control and more freedom in Him.

In His strength,
Karen