A Fixer

I am a fixer.

I have been a fixer my entire life.

There are some valuable attributes of being a fixer, but unfortunately, there are also some pitfalls. And some of them are down-right destructive.

See, it’s not my job to fix my spouse. But, remember, I’m a fixer.

It’s how I’m made. It’s who I am.

The job of fixing people, however belongs to the Holy Spirit. Frankly, I am pretty sure this is the only way any fixing in the hearts of broken souls actually happens.

So, here I am, trying to do Someone else’s job.

I need to stop doing that!

There are some things I really want fixed.

For instance, when my husband eats cereal in the morning, he sticks his bowl in the sink, but doesn’t rinse it. When I come across his dishes, the dried cereal takes me several minutes to scrub off. Every. Day.

I have asked him before to rinse his bowl. He doesn’t remember.

So, I have decided to give grace instead of fixing. My husband also is blind, so he doesn’t see it either.

Yes, grace is indeed a better way to go.

This morning while I was scrubbing the cemented cereal from his breakfast bowl, I was grateful that I got to clean up after my husband. While it was on the tip of my tongue to sing a gentle reminder about rinsing the bowl so this problem would go away, I decided to not be the fixer. Instead, I asked the Holy Spirit to fix my heart so that it didn’t bother me.

Amazingly, it not only didn’t bother me, but I found it a source of joy to get to wash my husband’s dishes.

In fact, a few other things that I was determined to fix, I just let go.

He left the porch light on all night. Instead of “fixing” him, I thanked God for the extra funds to pay for the wasted electricity. I also imagined that maybe our light actually helped someone in the dark of night. That brought me joy instead of angst.

His dog sheds all over the place. This means that I have to vacuum almost daily. Today, as I was vacuuming the dog hair for the three millionth time, I thanked Papa for my amazing sweeper, and how well it picks up black dog hair from my white carpet. I found myself singing instead of whining.

I’m wondering if I can learn this practice of not fixing what I want to fix. I’m wondering how much sweeter life will be when I don’t try to do a job that isn’t mine.

After all, I already have plenty of my own things to take care of.

I’ll leave the fixing of what I think needs to be fixed to the One who actually can.