Refrigerators

Close your eyes for a moment.  Picture your refrigerator.  Is it white or black or stainless?  Walk up to it.  Run your fingers over the handle.  Now grip the handle and open the door.  Feel the cold air on your face.  See the shelves, the food on the shelves.  Can you see it, feel it?  Good. Now open your eyes.

I love full refrigerators, though currently mine is pretty empty.  Refrigerators full of food make my heart happy regardless of the sort of food stacked on the shelves or filling the bins because to me a full refrigerator indicates that a family lives in that house.  A full refrigerator indicates a lack of want.  A full refrigerator says someone cared enough to shop to fill it.

Maybe you’re rolling your eyes.  Maybe you’re sighing, thinking, A full refrigerator is just a refrigerator.  As Freud is often credited with saying (probably incorrectly, as it turns out), yes, sometimes a cigar really is just a cigar.  But the value of something is only the value we place upon it. Paper money is really only as valuable as the “paper” upon which it’s printed; forget the denomination stamped in ink upon it.  Diamonds aren’t really all that rare, and concepts of feminine beauty vary depending on the culture. ‘Value’ rises and falls depending on what we hold dear.

So, back to my deal with refrigerators: what is that? Sometimes, simple and ordinary reveal extraordinary. Small blessings – tiny miracles –  deserve recognition.  A family that has stayed together despite overwhelming odds – and, let’s face it, the world itself today is an overwhelming odd – equals a tiny miracle. A parent that has the time to shop in a culture that demands so very much from its moms and dads equals a small blessing.  Simply having the resources to fill a refrigerator with healthy food in a place where a bag of potato chips is often cheaper than a bag of apples equals both the blessing and the miracle.  And so, I whisper words of praise and thanks when I see a refrigerator heavily loaded with fruits and veggies and meat and milk. My heart beats gratitude and hope when I see shelves of yogurt and cheese.  And, yes, I do realize this sounds strange.

I’m guessing you hold your own concept of a ‘full refrigerator,’ something that makes it just a bit hard to force words past the hitch in your throat when you see it or causes your hand to raise to your eye to wipe away an unbidden tear.  What is it that catches your breath?  What is it that makes you feel like skipping, like singing?  That thing is your version of a full refrigerator.  It doesn’t have to be something that anyone else understands, just something that He uses to reach you.  Look around you to find that refrigerator.

Let’s not ignore the everyday miracles and blessings.  It’s in those places and things that He waits for us to find Him.