A Plate of Spaghetti in My Path

15 04 2010

You know you’ve had a stressful few weeks when the first thought upon waking up in the morning is, “Take me out, Coach! Put in a sub! I need a breather!”

Trust me: I can’t make this stuff up.

Who was I talking to? I don’t know. It was early (5:45 am, to be precise–thank you, you horribly energetic dogs who somehow learned that it’s acceptable to pounce on your loving owner’s back and sit on her head if she doesn’t immediately respond).

Oh,  boy–I’ve been battling deadlines, schedules, and trying to singlehandedly motivate and educate hundreds of people through a menagerie of various letters, flyers, posters, emails, and postcards. I’ve raced to finish articles for publication, plan youth events, and schedule meeting dates with all of the 8th grade confirmation students, who are currently finishing up their faith testimonies and meeting with staff members here for their sort of “final interview” before sharing their faith testimonies with the world.

Ok–when I say meeting with “staff members”, that’s actually code for “all of the pastors are going to a conference next week and I’m doing all of the meetings myself”.

Add to that a couple of serious crisis situations going on in my students’ lives, and some difficult challenges in my own personal  life, and I think it’s understandable that I would wake up with such a wacky plea on my mind.

Eek.

I was walking the dogs the other night, since it’s been such perfect weather around here lately. We were just finishing a long walk and ducking back through the courtyard at our apartment complex, when suddenly we turned a corner and discovered a large plate of spaghetti sitting in the middle of the sidewalk.

Fresh spaghetti, on a nice dinner plate. In the middle of the sidewalk. At night. Not a soul in sight.

Like I said before–I can’t make this stuff up.

Tucker, our hungry hippo of a dog, immediately strained against his leash, trying to launch himself into that plate of spaghetti. It was literally right in front of him–almost like it had plopped down from the sky, directly into his path.

My first thought was, “Wow, what a powerful illustration of temptation. Satan drops things right in front of us–things we love and crave–as we walk through our lives. So many times, I just give right in and indulge in that ‘plate of spaghetti’ right in front of me, even though I don’t know who or where it came from. I could be scarfing down poison, for all I know.”

(Moment of truth here–I’ve discovered that I no longer think much like a normal human being, but that I think in terms of object lessons all the time. In an alternate universe, Cassie Moore would’ve kicked at the plate and thought to herself, “Who leaves a plate of spaghetti sitting on the middle of the sidewalk? What’s wrong with my neighbors?!”)

For some reason, this plate of spaghetti has really stuck with me–usually an indication that there’s a deeper lesson there, that I haven’t yet clued into.

This afternoon, it hit me–what if I’ve been looking at this plate of spaghetti backwards?

What if that plate of spaghetti actually represents the good things that God drops into our paths? The delightful surprises, the unexpected phone calls of encouragement from friends just when I need it the most, the kind emails from co-workers, and all tangled snarls of my life that God smooths out without me lifting a finger to resolve myself?

God has certainly dropped some plates of spaghetti into my life this last week–just when I needed those uplifting little meals the most.

Thanks, God.

And don’t worry, I’ll make sure Tucker doesn’t chew on the plate when I’m done with the spaghetti.

Advertisements

Actions

Information

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: