Sometimes I have to stop and look back at what I call the "little victories" in my life to really see how God has changed me over time. People, I've only been married for five years, and God has still managed to work on my heart in that time.
Let me tell you a little bit about myself as a college student. Freshman year, I went to the best university in the world where I had two wonderful roommates plus another that was a little nutty. I don't want to sound hateful. This girl was really a sweetheart, but occasionally I would listen to her phone conversations where she explained to her boyfriend who was high on mushrooms that he did not, in fact, have a brain tumor. Good times. Those were the days when my friends made fun of me because I went to bed every night at 10:30pm (even as a recently-freed-from-constant-parental-supervision 18-year-old).
[Please notice how I did not crop out the super-awesome poster of the guy from "The OC," because please, let's all just take a moment to remember that show.]
Together as roommates, we all made up some house rules. (You know, the usual things like "when you poop, you must strike a match.") But try as we might, the dishes became a thing. You know what I mean-- a thing. The rule about cleaning our own dishes as we go never stuck, and someone would always end up giving up and washing a full sink of things that didn't belong to them. I was never that someone because I was the most selfish person in the entire world. Here is the embarassing proof: During the first finals week, I remember that everyone else in the entire world had approximately 2 finals and got to go home soon, while I had about 37 finals to take which forced me to stay in Austin about 6 days after everyone was gone. 6 DAYS. It was the end of the world, guys. If that wasn't bad enough, the TV belonged to one of the other girls, and she took it home with her! How was I supposed to study for finals all by myself with no one to eat with me in the cafeteria and no television?! It was pure torture. When the day finally arrived for me to head home, I noticed that there were dirty dishes left in the sink. Did my Holy-Spirit-filled soul tell me to get over myself and clean up before I left because it was the right thing to do? Nope. Y'all, I left dishes with cereal stuck to them in our kitchen for the entire 4-week winter break because I was petty as all get out. We probably came back to a moldy nest full of rats. I don't even remember.
But there is hope to this story (i.e. the refinement)! I'm not even sure how I found a good husband, but I did, and now the Holy Spirit forces me to remember the depths of my selfishness when those same feelings arise. A few years ago when Dave would bring home his dirty lunch dishes and set them next to the sink (because, you know, he brings his lunch to work every single day to save money-- the nerve), I would think, "Why can't he clean up after himself? Does he not even love me?!"
Now, a little voice whispers in my head, "Just serve him without grumbling." Without grumbling. My loving husband serves me hundreds of ways every day. My loving savior forgave me in the pit of my despair, so I think I can lovingly put some dishes into the machine that washes our dishes for us.
I'm sure this seems like a ridiculous example of sanctification, and maybe it is, but it's part of my story. When I am able to have a small victory with the dishes, I think back to that time I was a total jerk to my roommates and am thankful that God didn't leave me in that place. Here's the best part: they actually kept being my friends! I guess their Holy Spirit lesson that year was one of forgiveness. That really worked out for me.
[Now, I'm off to go forgive myself for posting this picture that emphasizes the double-wide face I had while pregnant with Myla].
To be completely fair, your parents never required you to wash any dishes when you were under "constant-parental-supervision".
ReplyDelete