For the past six weeks or so, we’ve had rain in our area nearly every day. Sometimes it rained all day long and into the night. Some nights, it started raining in the early evening and didn’t stop until late in the evening the next day. And that kind of incessant rain for so many days can cause small holes in paved roads. Driving over those small holes causes them to grow, over time. Daily traffic has a way of wearing away at the once solid pavement, creating potholes big enough to give you a backache when you drive over them, if you don’t slow down.

We’ve got a plan. Several of the neighbors got together for a meeting, and we’ve got a plan to repair our little lane, as soon as the weather clears a bit. We’ll share the cost of the repairs. I’ve got at least four large holes in front of my drive that will have to be fixed. None of my neighbors have stopped to let me know about them, though. I think they must suspect that I’m already aware of them.

I am. Believe me, I am aware. And to put it bluntly, potholes stink.

When I come out of my drive, I don’t like having to dodge holes. I don’t like slowing down, either. There are some places in our little lane that are so pocked with holes that I’m not sure how in the world they’ll repair them. I creep along when I come to those spots. Deep. Rough. Gouged into the hard surface of our peaceful lane, holes have developed that are in desperate need of attention.

I think it would be nice if I were half as interested in the holes in my character as I am the holes in my little lane. I wonder how many of my family members or neighbors or friends notice the things in my life that they have to avoid, or risk some not-so-good consequence? Do they have to drive slowly when they approach my ego, so as not to bruise it?  Could they be secretly hoping I’ll notice and do something about my poor attitude when I’m having a bad day? I wonder if anyone finds it necessary to steer clear of me, or approach me with a certain air of caution?

O Lord,

Will you help me notice the no doubt gaping holes in my life?

Places deep inside of me that are in desperate need of your repair.

What is it Lord, about me, that causes me to be so observant of the holes in my neighbor’s lane? Why can’t I stay in my own lane, address my own disrepair?

I ask for your help, Oh paver of my soul and my every way:

Do your deep and abiding work, and bring about change in those places that need your healing touch.

Help me see the tiny holes.

Tiny holes have a way of growing into larger cavities.

Help me notice and address them before they become something more odious, and deep and more serious.

Thank you, for that Lord. I’m counting on you, because I hate potholes.


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