every wednesday afternoon i get together with pastor mark right after i get out of work. the ulterior motive is to plan for the upcoming week’s sunday school class (brief sidenote: i was walking past a seventh day adventist church today, and noticed on their sign that they have “sabbath school” at 9:30. i suppose “saturday school” doesn’t sound any better, but even so, it struck me as slightly humorous), but in reality we usually end up eating donuts, drinking coffee and talking about any number of things for the majority of the time, until the lateness of the hour forces the issue and we buckle down and get to work. anyhow, i usually try and remember to bring this giant notebook that the covenant church provides for use with confirmation classes with me; it's filled with great ideas and study guides and all sorts of helpful advice. unfortunately, it’s so filled with goodness that it causeth my backpack to runneth over. so, i decided to upgrad to my larger backpack for the day. no big deal, except...
i had to transfer everything (key word: everything) from my regular, every-day, and slightly smaller bag, to my larger, more capacious backpack
i’m a man of routine: i get up at the same time every morning, have the same morning regimen, and usually pack the same food items for my workday sustenance:
- two (2) Clif Bars, randomly selected from a grocery bag filled with an assortment of flavors
- one (1) banana
- one (1) “Breyers Smart! with DHA OMEGA-3 Fruit on the Bottom Boost your Brain, All Natural Yogurt, also randomly selected out of the fridge. (i’m slightly skeptical about it’s ability to “boost my brain,” but it is one of the last yogurts to have real, honest-to-goodness chunks of fruit in it, which i love. especially if they’re blueberries. also, judging by the pictures on their website, i'm clearly not part of their target demographic)
in order to safely and efficiently eat the yogurt, i have a special yogurt spoon which i keep in my bag, and carefully clean off after each use:
(ok, i’m not going to lie: i lick it clean and wipe it off on my shirt sleeve. satisfied?)
so, or course, i forgot the spoon, leaving it at home in my abandoned backpack:
by the time i realized i was working sans spoon, i was too far afield to consider driving home to retrieve it. i suppose the rational thing to do at that point would have been either (a. procure a spoon from the nearby grocery store (this would most likely entail visiting their salad bar), or (b. eat the yogurt without the spoon
instead, i chose the third option, which was (c. think deep and dark thoughts about how my life is ruined now that i don't have a spoon for my yogurt. not only that, but EVERY YOGURT that i've EVER EATEN while at this job has been consumed with the aid of my sacred yogurt spoon. the blood of a thousand berries and cream of a hundred cows has filled its bowl, and i do it the dishonor of leaving it behind? what a moron
fortunately, my moment of discontent soon passed. i'll spare you the details of how i managed to finally do away with the yogurt (ok, i lied, i won't spare you the details: i drank most of it right out of the cup, and then used a pen i found in the truck to sort of scrape off the sides and get every last bit i could into my mouth), but what left an impression in my mind was how quickly i allowed myself to become upset and discontent over such a small matter
how many times have i fallen into this trap before? more than i'd care to admit
it's so easy to think and say: "my current situation in life is not good enough. i expect, no, i demand better." bigger houses. more clothes. faster cars. higher-definition televisions. thinner bodies. quieter appliances. more efficient furnaces. smaller mp3 players. "bigger and better than ever before!" you know the drill
it's a far cry from what i know to be true... "if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content." (1 Tim. 6:8).
nowhere in the bible do i find mention of "sacred yogurt spoons" being needed to go about my daily life. or, quite frankly, many other things which i would tend to label as "necessities." henry thoreau makes the point in walden that much of what we deem as being essential is really superfluous; the true necessities are "Food, Shelter, Clothing, and Fuel; for not till we have secured these are we prepared to entertain the true problems of life."
chances are you have all four of those things, and quite a bit more to boot. i know i do. so why do i still worry about my yogurt spoon, instead of devoting my mental faculties towards more meaningful ends?
now that's the million-dollar question
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