About a month agone we paid off one of our cars.  This tends to take u.s. a while to exercise, so we were excited to finally own this car outright. No more monthly payments, a lilliputian fleck of breathing room.  Chris and I both breathed sighs of relief at God's provision of a bit of actress money to spend in other places.

Nosotros were all smiles about information technology until the day I bought the watermelon.  Well, actually, we were still smiling until 2 days after the purchase.  That's when nosotros noticed the stench.  In the car.  The one we'd simply received the title for in the post.

My daughter and I headed out to the driveway prepared to option up the friends in our morning carpool to school.  Everything about this Wednesday morning was clipping along fine, until Sarah Kate opened the automobile door.  Out came the worst smell I call back I've ever smelled.   No other odor compares … it was but suffocating.

Suddenly, I remembered the melon that I'd bought equally a sweet treat for my family. I remembered  noticing it in the dorsum seat floorboard  on Mon (in case y'all didn't find, this was Midweek morn).  I hadn't placed the watermelon in the floorboard. I'd placed it in the cargo area that I had enlarged by folding downwards the back row of seats.  Apparently, on the bulldoze from Sam's to our house, it had fallen..  While unloading the other groceries, I call back making a mental note to come dorsum and get it.  Needless to say, I quickly forgot and there it still saturday.

What I hadn't realized was that it had busted open when it fell.  Thus the aroma: rotting watermelon with a day and a half of summer rut added in.

We rolled downwards all the windows and turned the AC on full blast in an endeavor to clear the air before we got to the Moore's house.  I apologized to the girls nosotros were picking up for this less-than-welcoming scent, and they gagged as they entered.  All 4 of them.  Information technology was a lot of gagging.

Ane of the girls offered her family unit's trash tin for disposal of the rotten fruit.  I took her up on it, but was disappointed when I returned to the car and found its fragrance still lingering.  The car really smelled just every bit bad as information technology had before I hauled abroad the watermelon.

Information technology was and so bad, in fact, that our children began to turn down to ride in it.  Ella, our x year old, starting having gagging reactions when she would begin to become shut to the car. The girls I drove to schoolhouse requested air fresheners.  I think they probably held their breath.

I began to gag when I remembered that nosotros now owned this auto, this very stinky motorcar.  This car that no one in the family wanted to come up near anymore.

Something  had to be done.  Although we were ready to kiss it and its awful scent proficient-bye, I couldn't envision trying to sell this smelly vehicle. Who else would desire to bulldoze a compost bin on wheels?  We were conspicuously stuck with this auto.

So I have spent the last week – yes, 7 days – trying to rid our automobile of this aroma.  I have used cleaning wipes, extra forcefulness carpeting odor eliminator powder, an over-priced spray for "tough odors," another carpet deodorizing powder that touted a delightful floral scent (and so it smelled like rotten watermelon in a garden).  I've sprayed lots of Febreze  … the i that purports to eliminate even the virtually stubborn smells. I've kept the windows down to permit fresh air in and the bad smell out every risk I've had.  I fifty-fifty went to AutoBell and paid them $54 to shampoo the carpets.  My passengers still complained.  I finally resorted to stuffing Hawaiian breeze air fresheners under the seats.

A few days into this situation, I had an epiphany of sorts –  I am like this watermelon.  In that location are times when others experience my words and my presence as a fragrant offering.  These are the times that my words bring blessings and my presence offers comfort. The times when the fruit of my lips is tasty and sweet.

And so at that place are the days that I am a rotten melon.  The days that unkind words, (the Bible calls them curses), flow readily from my lips.  The moments when my atmosphere is brusk, and my determination to accept my own style long-lasting.  The times when the overflow of my centre is toxic to those around me.  Maybe even to the point that they want to gag when they see me next.

The freshness or the foulness of my fruit is determined by the spirit I'g listening to in the moment.  It is indication of whether I'g living according to my sinful and self-centered flesh or to the Holy Spirit'south phone call to receive grace and extend love.

My allegiance tin can change on a dime.  One minute I may be looking out for the needs of others and the adjacent I am out to brand myself happy.  One moment you may observe me believing God'due south trustworthy words almost my value and the adjacent you may notice me fretting over my reflection in the mirror. On some occasions, I am quick to forgive and to enquire for forgiveness and on many others I am judgmental and dug in.

Another similarity is the length of time the olfactory property lingers … whether it is the aroma of Christ or the spirit of death.  Just similar my family experienced in the Osborn Watermelon Fiasco, the stench of my poisonous words doesn't hands fade. Neither does the bitter sense of taste of my pride. Nor the divisive ability of my unforgiveness.  Not even the bruises on my soul from falling down in worship to one of my idols … over again.

No, the harm I practice to others when I alive equally if I'm the king of my kingdom stays in the air a adept long while. The sting of my words, the cut of my tone, the burns inflicted by my icy withdrawal when I'm hurt … these are all aromas of decease and when I default to them you could say that I stink at loving well. Instead of offering life to those God gave me to care for, I'm wounding the spirit of my loved ones each time I brand the decision to live co-ordinate to my sinful nature.

But I wasn't meant to alive this way.  I was created in God's image and am designed to bring LIFE to those around me. I am called to resist evil (not participate with it) and to exercise skillful (not harm).  I am intended to exist a human communicator of God's love to people.

This requires that I alive thoughtfully and deliberately, avoiding impulsive reactions whenever I perchance tin can.  It ways that I must spend more time on my knees (begging for humility and mercy) than with my feet stuck in the muck and the mire of my own calendar.

It ways that I need prayers.  My prayers for myself and your prayers on my behalf.  It means that I need Jesus to call His Holy Spirit to bring me direction and conviction.  It ways that I must follow His lead if I am to exist transformed into His likeness the way I say I want to be.

Information technology means that I must retrieve daily the moral of this story.  People, similar watermelons, create smelly situations when they autumn.  And both require something bigger than themselves to do the clean-upward.

Wendy Osborn is married to Chris, and their 3 daughters are her favorite girls in the world. She is in the process of launching a not-turn a profit ministry building called Fixing Our Optics, dedicated to nurturing the souls of women with the honey of Jesus every bit they walk through painful life circumstances. All services are offered free of accuse.