failures, felines, photos,
...and other faux alliterations
author's note: I briefly and crudely sketched some pictures to give you a visual of my experiences. you make fun of my artistic talent, you are kicked off this blog. deal with it.
 |
| i think the woman behind me knew i was taking this. |
so hopefully it’s caffeinated and bursting with beans of brilliance.
Alliteration...eh? Eh?
Last week I chalked up multiple fails. Think Buddy the elf in the North Pole. Breaking figurative toys, hitting my head on the doorways of life, being too big for the world’s metaphoric beds. Yeah, this week I just didn’t fit into the school desk that Life generally requires we fit into.
 |
| me = buddy; life = the chair |
My nanny boys were driving me crazy with question after question. They love details. They love things like exact times we’re going to eat, how many minutes left on the pizza, how much white chocolate chips cost at Walmart. I’m sure it’s fascinating for detail-oriented people that the rental DVD cost $1.74 but I’m one that throws receipts out as soon as they’re handed to me. I started just not answering them at all.
-Miss Whitney, how long do you think this game of Battleship will take?
-(Nothing. Not even acknowledging them.)
I’M TERRIBLE!
Second fail: I do not possess the qualities that make for a good bridesmaid. First of all, I am not crafty: I don’t know how wings are supposed to be glued onto paper birds and I change the placement of the stamps on the candy boxes halfway through, just because I feel like it (it never crossed my mind they should all look the same). Second of all, I am—again—NOT a detail-oriented person. Fold up 350 individual boxes for candy? Uh…my attention span diverts to latest Bachelorette news or the pickles in the fridge.
 |
| pickles |
 |
| i'm the one in the back with the pickles; more on the ninja bun later |
The third quality that, combined with other qualities, makes me a disastrous bridesmaid is that I am slow. At everything. We’re talking glacial pace. I take my time in the bathroom, in the shower, drinking my coffee, and cooking up breakfast eggs (only exception: eating. I’ll take forever to make those eggs but you throw them on a plate in front of me and they’ll be gone before you offer to pray). I finished 48 boxes when another bridesmaid decided to “give me a hand” and we whipped through the rest of them like an elf on Christmas Eve (not Buddy—a REAL elf). I don’t cry at weddings of even my closest friends—another bridesmaid expectation I won’t meet. So I publically apologize to the bride for my subpar mint-making skills and inadequate abilities to find yellow heels. I just hope she doesn’t get mad at me for stealing the spotlight at their dance…crap.
Final fail among many others is my recent house-sitting fail. I was looking forward to a week of being by myself because I haven’t been in a people mood lately and am pretty sure that’s not going to get any better the next few days. And my uncle/pastor just came back from a “trip of solitude” with God and, being slightly jealous, I have taken this week upon myself to be quiet, read, listen, and just be with Him. Sure, I’ll run the sprinkler in the morning and water the plants and feed the dog and cat in between. I’ll just ignore them the rest of the time.
Whitney, why did you say yes? You hate animals.
Oh, this is different. I open the door to let them pee and fill their bowls with food and water. I won’t have to touch them.
My solitude, confidence in my house-sitting abilities, and vow to not touch the animals were simultaneously broken at 6:15 this morning when the shrill meow of the cat was right next to me in bed and I heard myself moan “dear God no” as it slithered up next to me. In the midst of my dry heaves and Christian replacements for bad words, I concluded this cat is the devil. And it’s not going to leave me alone.
The fails ensued. I didn’t know the dog won’t step outside unless you say the word “potty”. I have no idea when a plant is sufficiently watered and I have a newfound appreciation for when my mom waters the lawn. I was that girl with an apple in my mouth, trying to un-kink the hose, run away from the sprinkler (not before slipping on the grass though), trying to figure out how those mobile sprinklers work for 15 minutes before I realize that I’m supposed to use the other one. I was that girl with the ninja bun, legs covered with grass and leaves, running through the yard at 6:45 in the morning. And the only reason I put myself into a stereotype of “that girl” is so that I will comfort myself in the hope that there are indeed others who have found themselves in the same position as me. Not likely.
 |
| ninja bun, also called ballerina bun, also called... |
 |
| the Mulan bun |
 |
| this is where my art gets a bit sketchy (get it?) this is me, bad sprinkler in hand, running away from the water |
I thought I’d be that cool girl with the awesome house sitting job that has an awesome Jacuzzi and awesome sound system but really I found myself drowning in bubbles (umm…DIDN’T know that you should limit your soap when you’re going to turn the jets on…) and on my hands and knees (my body covered in bubbles and the dog just sitting there, watching me) cleaning up the lava of foam erupting from the Jacuzzi volcano.
 |
| of course the first thing i did when this happened was grab my phone and take a picture |
 |
| me at 10 pm last night, naked but covered in suds |
The dog never lets me out of his sight. I don’t even know his name so I’ve resorted to calling him middle-school insults. I literally said “good morning, poop pup” and “good-bye, fart fur” to him this morning. I have to call him something!
 |
| craphole canine |
i just call this one stupid
The other day I was running and listening to multiple languages singing one phrase together: How Great is our God. That song always gets me excited for heaven—a place I always think I am very close to entering when I’m running 10 miles in the blistering sun. And I wonder if one of the reasons we have so many languages is because just one could never be enough to praise Him. Even the thousands of languages on earth could never be enough. But each has its own slant on Him. African languages cry of His peace and comfort amidst war. Chinese dialects thank Him for His protection and providence as they meet quietly and secretly. Afghan languages sing of the hope they are holding onto for their people.
Goodness, English just isn’t enough. He is too great.
And then I kept thinking (when you’re running 10 miles there’s not much else to do). We’re all going through different things. I could tell you of the hope and peace I’m holding onto, my friend (the bride) could tell you of His plan and His love. Friends could tell you of His healing, His help, His forgiveness, His faithfulness.
And I thought, what if every person on earth—everyone that ever lived—is a testimony of a different facet of His greatness? He is too majestic and magnificent and complex to reveal it all to one of us. It is impossible. So He reveals little parts of Himself to each person, little by little. Each circumstance is something that will reveal something new. We are excited; we have tasted more. Yet we have only tasted a miniscule part. His worship requires myriads of languages, experiences, stories, and people and He is still worthy of more.
How great is our God.
And yet we still swallow bitterly and proudly declare that He is enough. As if we will choose to let Him be enough. As if the ocean of wonder that we are immersed into when we accept Him is a drop of water in a desert and we suppose it will do for now. Guys, He is MORE than enough. We would explode from the amount of enough-ness that He is if we could taste all that He is. You could live in Walmart because it has everything you need; how much more do we have all we need in Him and yet we still act as if choosing Him is really denying us anything?
We are gaining the Gift—the wondrous and magnificent gift—of knowing Him. Having Him. Being in Him and Him being in us. What? The One worthy of the praise of both rocks and rulers, peasants and princes, mountains and musicians, horse riders and house sitters, Spanish and Swedish languages, the One the clouds thunder for on a harsh summer night and the snowflakes twinkle for on a sunny wintry morning. He, in all His wonder and magnificence, is IN US. And we can have Him. And know more of Him. Forever.
The caffeine is kicking in and I’m just so not over this! Ah!!! We are overwhelmed with the vastness of the Grand Canyon, have we ever been in awe of its Maker? The one who probably limited Himself when He made it? We have forgotten how completely overwhelming He is. We act as if four days in an empty house with just Him is a real self-denial.
When, in reality, if we could really get rid of everything and have just Him, we would be satisfied in every way possible. We would burst because He is too satisfying.
Am I making sense? Or is my caffeine just making my fingers go crazy?
I’m just ECSTATIC. Everything we go through—broken hearts, lonely nights, answered prayer, romance, loss, happiness, travels, service, responsibilities, nature—all holds opportunity to gain more of this Being that promises we will find Him when we seek Him. He’s not a diva that’s hiding and will never let us know anything. He wants to reveal Himself to us. And HE WILL.
We are thrilled when the super cute guy is interested in us. We scream when we get within 50 feet of famous athletes and rock stars who would never give us the time of day, and yet we are given this amazing offer to find and know the most interesting, astounding, loving, brilliant, complex, beautiful One EVER and many of us never take Him up on it. We are too busy watching our TV shows. Too caught up in friend or boyfriend drama. Too distracted by the newest song (we get it, Maroon 5. You’re at a payphone).
It’s making me angry. But this post is getting long and I need to get back and tend to the puke pets. But I encourage you. Don’t let the rocks out-praise you.
Don’t refuse His offer to know Him.
Comments
Post a Comment