From Panic to Peace: How Running Out of Gas Led to a Divine Reminder
You know those moments when you’re juggling fifteen different plates and one crashes spectacularly? No? Just me? Well, buckle up for my latest adventure in divine intervention.
Just two days ago, I wrote in my journal about being scared of house problems post-divorce. The Universe, with its cosmic sense of humor, decided to test me immediately.
It started with mysterious whiffs of propane in my kitchen and garage. Thanks to past-me’s paranoia, I had “Fred” (because “gas sniffer” is way too long to type) ready to investigate. After some fumbling with calibration, Fred declared all was well. Crisis averted, right? I promptly forgot about it and settled in for some cozy Shetland watching.
Then came the plot twist.
Curled under my quilt, I noticed the chill. With temperatures dropping into the teens, this wasn’t just a “add another blanket” situation. My gas furnace, which only kicks in below 33°, was suspiciously quiet. Back to the garage I went, where Fred still insisted everything was fine – despite the lingering gas smell.
Here’s where past-me would have spiraled into panic, speed-dialing emergency numbers. But new-me? She calmly turned off the gas valve, switched off the heat, and MacGyver’d a solution with portable heaters and electric blankets. (Plus a carbon monoxide detector, because I’m cautious, not reckless!)
At 4 AM, my subconscious delivered a face-palm moment: What if I was simply out of propane? Despite my certainty that last month’s 30% should have lasted longer, dawn revealed the truth – empty tank. Cue the shame spiral and self-berating for my carelessness.
But then something shifted.
Instead of drowning in panic about emergency fees and multi-day waits, I took a deep breath and tried something different. “I deserve Miracles,” I declared to the Universe, replacing shame with trust. And wouldn’t you know it? The next call to the gas company connected me with an angel of a customer service rep who found a driver willing to deliver that very day – with an emergency fee of $100, not the dreaded $500!
The real miracle wasn’t just the gas delivery or the reduced fee. It was remembering that I don’t have to solve everything alone. Sure, my ADHD brain’s lack of object permanence means I often forget this divine backup system exists, but it’s always there, waiting for me to lean in.
So now, two new signs are going up in my house:
- Office: “Lean into the Divine”
- Furnace door: “Remember: When you smell gas, CHECK the propane level!”
Because sometimes the most spiritual growth happens not when everything’s perfect, but when we’re standing in front of an empty propane tank, choosing trust over panic.