What do you do when life becomes overwhelming?
When you’re going along in your basic routine — whatever that looks like. I’m not judging you, so please don’t judge me. 😅
I would love to say the churchy thing — that I go straight to my Bible and search the Scriptures to calm my spirit. Or that I fall to my knees immediately, seekin’ the face of Jesus.
Sometimes I do.
But if we’re being honest?
Usually I self-soothe first.
A particular computer card game.
A British crime show.
Chocolate.
Decaf coffee.
All the while, my brain is working things out on the back burner.
Can’t you just see an old percolator on the counter? Not bothering anybody. Just sittin’ there, burbling away until someone’s ready to pour that dark liquid into a cup.
That’s my mind.
Those little distractions give me room to breathe. And tucked inside all of it are those quiet prayers:
“Lord, I ain’t gotta clue. I know You’re there… but I’m gonna play this game right now.”
Do you talk to Him while you’re doing stuff? I do. But then, I’ve talked to myself since I could talk, so changing the audience wasn’t that hard once I realized He was listening.
And He is listening.
Even to the thoughts that aren’t exactly G-rated.
Even when we’re not polished.
Even when we’re human.
He’s gracious like that.
And Then This Morning Happened
Today started beautifully.
I had two doctor appointments across Honolulu — one morning, one afternoon. I was off work. I’d already done my chronological Bible reading and explored a new 30-day Precept study. I even remembered my umbrella. We’ve had unusually frequent rain showers this month!
Made the bus.
Arrived early.
All was well in Gritty Granny land.
After the appointment, I treated myself to the breakfast of champions at 11:30 a.m. — a McDonald’s quarter pounder with cheese, small fries, and decaf coffee (It was a heavy sweatshirt cold in there. Don’t judge me.)
I browsed the library. Picked out three used books.
Needed cash.
Drat.
No matter. Onward.
Ordered an Uber.
Fifteen-minute walk to pickup. Odd, but okay.
Then my phone decided it had had enough of this day.
Wouldn’t hold a screen.
Battery dropping.
Temper tantrum engaged. Who knew phones could have them?!?
I walked to a gas station for directions. No one knew the route I needed. The cashier kindly let me use her phone to call my doctor’s office. Of course, they were closed for lunch. I left a quick message explaining I could not come due to Uber complications.
My phone flickered back to life long enough for me to cancel the Uber — knowing I’d be charged — and then it died again.
There I stood.
Rain stopping and starting.
Umbrella up.
Umbrella down.
Plans unraveling.
Deep breath.
I decided I knew my way home if I stayed on South King Street. It’s about an hour walk. I’ve done it before.
Then I remembered bus stops from when I lived in the McCully neighborhood. So I cut through side streets toward Kapiolani, hoping my memory was still intact — and hoping I had enough on my bus pass since I had no cash.
Half a mile later, there it was.
The right stop.
The right bus.
Home.
I plugged in my rebellious phone, called the doctor’s office again, and yes — I can come Friday at the same time.
Another day off work.
Another bus ride.
Another umbrella.
And, this time, a phone charger!
But I’m going.
The Lesson (Again)
Pause.
Breathe.
Ask for help.
Go forward.
I went from exultation…
to frustration…
to vulnerability…
to disappointment…
to the solution.
Isn’t that just life?
Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, “This is the way; walk in it.”
— Isaiah 30:21 (NIV)
Sometimes that voice sounds like:
“Cancel the Uber.”
“Walk toward Kapiolani.”
“Try the bus.”
“Go home.”
And sometimes it sounds like:
“Play the game.”
“Drink the decaf.”
“Breathe first.”
“Pray while you’re walking.”
Yes, He guides us in the big spiritual moments.
And in the wet-sidewalk, dying-phone, missed-appointment moments too.
Right here.
Right now.
Tomorrow’s another day.
I would truly love to hear — what do you do when overwhelm creeps in? How do you steady yourself when plans unravel?
I’ll be here with the light on and the coffee pot percolating . . .
∼ Gritty Granny
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