I turned the dial and pushed the button just like I've done countless times before. However, this time nothing happened.
The dryer appeared to be broken. I did what first came to mind. I opened the door and shut it once more. Then, I unplugged the dryer and plugged it back in. Still nothing. So, I opened the door one more time. This time something happened.
The dryer didn't start, but a tiny piece of black plastic did fall to the ground.
It didn't look like anything important, but since you never know, I looked a bit closer at the dryer door. Sure enough, the little latch that signals that the dryer door is shut, had broken. If I stood there and pushed down what was left of the latch the dryer worked. The second I removed my finger, the dryer stopped. I'm hoping a little super glue will fix it.
Meanwhile, I feel grateful that this happened. Why?
Well, it has nothing to do with the fact that I have a valid excuse for avoiding laundry today.
You see, I could easily blame the broken part on the dryer being a somewhat old and cheaper model, but I know the truth.
The truth is that I've slammed that dryer door one too many times. Now, admittedly, today I didn't really slam it. I just shut it a bit too hard as I hurried on to my next task.
However, there have been more times than I like to admit when I've angrily slammed that door as hard as I could.
There, I said, or rather wrote it.
I have a problem with anger. Sure it probably wouldn't qualify me for any anger management classes, nor would anyone ever worry I'd hurt my children. It isn't like that.
Rather, it is the type of anger that leaves me screaming, stomping, and of course, slamming over petty little inconveniences. I guess it's rather like a good old-fashioned temper tantrum.
The dryer door had seen its fair share of slams because I thought I was being clever by attempting to hide my anger from the children. Every now and then, when I life seemed to be one annoying little thing after another, I'd simply disappear into the laundry room and work on the laundry. If distraction and prayer hadn't changed my attitude, I might slam the door.
I suppose I thought if the children didn't see me, my anger wasn't that big of a deal.
He always sees. He knows my heart even when I plaster a smile on my face or get really quiet. He knows what I'm muttering under my breath even if the children can't hear me. But He also understands!
Even better, just like I love my children too much to let them misbehave, He loves me too much to let me continue in my sin.
Today, He reminded me of that with a broken dryer.
If it takes a broken dryer to fix my broken attitude, so be it. I'm grateful.