Angi Aymond

I grew up in a home where when things broke, they stayed broken.

We didn’t fix them. We worked around them. We learned how to live without.

It wasn’t so much a mindset problem—it was a money problem. And over time, it became both.

And without realizing it, I carried that way of living into my own life.

A few years back, my husband and I bought a house with original appliances. We knew they were on borrowed time and that we would eventually need to replace them.

Three years later, the dishwasher began singing tunes of despair, warning us. But the warnings stopped.

But, I did indeed find a work around: unplug it and plug it back in.

So that’s what I did for a year and a half. Every day I plopped myself onto the floor, reached under my kitchen sink, and unplugged that dishwasher.

Sometimes once.

Sometimes five times. Once or twice as many as ten.

Because I could get by.

But one afternoon, things went terrible wrong.

While cleaning the gas stovetop, a burner began clicking—though I had turned nothing on.

I knew what to do to cut the power, but the outlet was hidden bidden behind two deep and very wide drawers, filled with heavy pots and pans.

I couldn’t get them out. I tried. Panicked. Cried. Prayed.

In that order.

I called my husband (who was on the road) and asked for instruction. He calmly began talking me through. But i needed brevity. To the point.

The clicking got faster. Popping followed, flames flaring.

My mind raced ahead: this is how it happens. This is how everything is lost.

I ran to the garage and shut off the breaker.

Whew!

Smoke lingered, but rested. And the house stood.

I cried again, tears of gratefulness and relief.

The message was clear: ignored brokenness doesn’t stay contained.

It waits. It builds. It strains.

And eventually—it demands our attention.

Not just in appliances. But in us. In our relationships. In the quiet places we’ve learned to avoid.

We tell ourselves we are fine.

We adapt. We cope. We get by.

But getting by has a cost.

What we don’t address doesn’t disappear—it leaks. It shapes how we love, how we trust, how we respond under pressure.

It shows up when the heat is on.

Psalm 51 says, “Create in my a clean heart, O God…a contrite heart You will not despise.”

God isn’t asking for perfection—He’s asking for access. And access requires space.

The drawers underneath my stovetop? They were too wide and heavy—too full for me to reach what I needed.

So here’s the question: what’s filling your drawers?

Pride? Fear? Distraction? The pace you refuse to sow down?

You can keep working around it. You can keep managing symptoms.

But is getting by really what you want when God offers made fully new?

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation…” 2 Corinthians 5:17.

Not patched. Not managed. Not barely holding it together.

Made new…

And new…well, that requires surrender. And surrender is a long and short game; every day. Forever.

Sofriends, don’t wait for sparks to fly.

Empty the drawers. Reach for help.

And choose something better than just getting by.

Choose made fully new.