“Bob! Bob!”, my wife shouted from somewhere in the house. I leapt from my chair to go find her. Since we are of a certain vintage, my first thought was that she might be experiencing a medical crisis. Panicked, I ran from room to room, but I couldn’t locate her. “Bob!”, she called out, “I’m in the basement!”

OK, so maybe not a heart attack. Was there a mouse running loose down there? Had her fancy sewing machine suddenly become self-aware, and was it now fiendishly making up its own stitches?

As I made my way down the steps to the basement, I spied my dear wife standing in a puddle of water. Breathing hard, she yelled, “Did the sump pump quit working?” My normally soft spoken wife had gone from Def-Con 1 to Def-Con 5 without a pause for any intermediate steps.

Clearly, there was water all over the floor. I heard noises from the sump pump area and when I went in there, I observed water spraying everywhere from a leaking hose connection. The walls, the floor, the stacks of boards and plywood, were being soaked by this gushing water.

I quickly unplugged the pump cord, and the deluge ceased. But now I was concerned about the water still coming into the sump, which was not being pumped outside as intended. Grabbing some tools, I re-attached the hose to the piping, plugged in the pump, and water began to flow out of the house again.

There was, of course, still the matter of standing water, much of it mixed with sawdust, all over my workshop, the exercise area, and the corridor leading to the sewing studio. A couple of hours of wet-vacuuming and mopping removed the water and muck, and I set up a big fan to complete the drying process.

But what happened afterward surprised me; my reaction to the whole mess was abnormal. Normally, I tend to get angry in these situations. That did not happen. I also have a tendency to stew a bit (a lot) after something like this. That didn’t happen either. Instead, I found myself in my chair being grateful, and expressing my gratitude to God. I was thankful that:

1. We were at home and not away on a trip.
2. My wife decided to go downstairs and sew, thus discovering the problem.
3. The pump had not failed. (Which would have necessitated a visit to Menards and an unplanned expense.)
4. The water was confined to the part of the basement where there was no carpeting.

A right attitude toward the ordinary minor household crises, and the many peace-disrupting events that occur in life is crucial to surviving life as it really is. So I’m grateful to God for continuing to transform me into a more patient man, one who is growing more likely to to be grateful rather than angry.

Three days after this incident, I went to the basement to exercise….and stepped into a puddle of water. But that’s a story for another day.