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What Can Go Right?

You ever have one of those weeks? Where it just seems like nothing can go right? Yeah–been there done that.

My last five days have put me through the ringer. Nothing drastic or tragic has happened, but a lot of small things have been adding up.

Let me give you a play-by-play of my week:

After spending the weekend home with my parents, my boyfriend and I made the trip back to Penn State… where my Fitbit band presently decided to break. (Thing #1.)

Then, the work week started. While I was typing away in my little studio apartment, I heard a thud. Apparently, my closet door decided to fall off. Apparently it was tired of resisting gravity (such a struggle; can you blame it?). That was Thing #2. And I almost burnt the food I was cooking, but I’ll let that slide.

What was #3, you may ask? That happened when I spilled a fishy marinade over my favorite sweatshirt… the same day I realized that someone dented and scraped my car with their own car door. Wonderful #4, right?

Yesterday was perhaps the weirdest Thing, which is really saying something.

I drove to the gym with my phone in my car’s cup holder, like I’ve done a hundred times. I parked, looked at my phone, and slid it into my pocket… like I’ve done a thousand times. I got out, locked the car, and made my way to the gym. When I pulled my phone out to sign in, I gasped, audibly. A bullseye of a crack spanned the entire length of my screen protector.

Oh, and I also dropped a 45 pound dumbbell on the floor, too. So, #5 and #6, I guess.

To top it all off, when I was making dinner yesterday, I spilled more fishy flavored marinade on my other–brand new–sweatshirt. I’ve always liked the #7, after all.

Suffice to say, it’s been rough. So many small things have gone wrong, seemingly without any rhyme or reason.

It’s left me feeling frustrated and discouraged, I’ll admit. But then I think of the people I know who are currently in the hospital, getting surgeries, or suffering with various ailments.

And I think of my boyfriend who has given me plenty of reassuring hugs, my mom who takes time out of her day for a phone call with me, my dad who works all day, every day, and yet still has the time to talk to and visit me.

And I think about God.

My God, who protects me with His angel armies. Who forgives me of my sins–past, present, and future–and sent His son to the Cross as proof. Who lives in me by His Holy Spirit, guiding me and advocating for me and reminding me of His faithfulness when I so often forget.

My God, Abba Father, Jesus, Savior, Redeemer, and Friend.

Seven things may have disrupted my plans this week, but seven also is God’s number of perfection... And He’s not finished yet.


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