Lessons Learned From My Broken Bamboo Friend
From the Archives
This post was originally published on my former blog, Glance Through the Lens, on January 10, 2017.
Today was just one of those days – for petty reasons, as it usually is with my Tuesdays and Thursdays. (For some reason, every semester, it seems I have more weird/frustrating days on those days than during the rest of the week. Why is that?)
My three-mile run this morning was a struggle. I had a headache all morning from no coffee. I’m really sore from yesterday’s workout so getting around just took a. lot. long. er. I have a deadline for an article I’m (very) behind on. I sort of hate technology so my video production class is already stressing me out. I was really excited about this vegetable soup at the dining hall and it ended up being subpar, to say the least. I came home to a sink full of dishes. (1. Our dishwasher doesn’t work and 2. I reorganized our chore chart so that I would have dishes first this week; therefore my annoyance is not warranted. You hear the complaining? You hear the illogical frustration?)
Stupid, silly, insignificant things. Real things. But stupid things.
And then, before entering the whirlwind that is school and work, I went over to water my bamboo plant, Pickett. (Yes, from Fantastic Beasts.)
You know where this is going.
I pull back the curtain to where my little friend sits on my windowsill, and BAM. Poor little guy lands on the floor and his adorable, pale blue pot shatters on the floor, scattering wet soil and pebbles.
“DAMMIT!” I yell, slapping the window. (Just being real, folks.)
I leaned over the mess and just stared. And then I laughed, because it was all so absurd.
As I was trying to pick up the pebbles and soil, attempting to put Pickett’s little home back together, I tried turning my bad attitude into joy.
“Lord, thank you that the wet soil didn’t get on the carpet. Thank you that I get to live in this house with my best friends. Thank you that Daddy’s doctor’s appointment went well. Thank you that I’m in Grady and that my friends and I can learn and create things together.”
And before I knew it, a smile was creeping onto my face. I continued this thanks-giving parade. I chuckled as I pulled out little dust bunnies from the stones (Pickett has some hair now, too), and couldn’t help but think, “This is what I should have been doing today. I should have been grateful.”
We can be honest. We can be vulnerable before our God – if we couldn’t go to Him as we are, we would be so tragically lost and hopeless. We can be real with Him.
But as the sunshine came pouring in through my window, and I looked at my planner, filled with fun things I get to learn and do and read and write, I couldn’t help but feel so grateful. For where I am, who I’m with, and what I’m doing. How could I let silly things like headaches and bad soup keep me from falling on my knees praising God for not just another day, but another day of being His?
There’s a reason why Paul is repetitive in Philippians 4:4.
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice.”
As in, “I know you guys aren’t very good at this, but have joy in the Lord. Did you catch that? Is this mic on? REJOICE, PEOPLE!”
Our feathers get ruffled easily. At least mine do. They shouldn’t. As I look around this little home we’ve created, I remember why.
So, with headache lingering, deadline looming, and wet soil under my fingernails, this girl is smiling.
