The Lesson Before the Lesson

So….you know how I share the things that God’s teaching me?  Well, I usually like to share the things I get right.  The lessons that I’ve “gotten.”  Unfortunately, I’m terribly, horribly, chronically human.  Which, in my book, means the same as flawed most days.  Today I definitely was human.  So, being the soul I am, I will share my lesson with you.  I hope you do a better job of getting it right than I did!

As you may or may not know, I am taking classes at Lee University.  I’m not certain I’m really meant to be a scholar, but I love, love, love learning!  Last year, one of my favorites taught me this….in the scriptures, Jesus would give His disciples instructions, then give them an opportunity to practice what He was preaching. Before He calmed the storm, He had given them parables about faith.  This morning, one of my favorite posters on Facebook wrote,”‘But He was wounded for our transgressions’………. so today there is no need to wound anyone for their’s. God took care of their short comings too!”  Oh good word!  I liked it and “liked” it.

But, then.  Yep, God gave me an opportunity to prove that I had not just liked it but had gotten it.  I discovered at dark o’thirty last night that the 3rd grader was going on a field trip this morning.  This morning, as the dear husband was picking out clothes, I was horrified to see what he was planning on sending him to school in.  A t-shirt???  *gasp*  No, I want my baby to look nice when he goes out like that.  Then, I discovered we had no plastic spoons for the bag lunch.  And I had no idea where they were actually going, so I didn’t know if I should send a bit of spending money for a random gift shop or not.  My gripe was that the dear husband had signed the permission slip and never told me about the trip.  These are the surprises I do not like.

So.  I miserably failed at my lesson this morning.  Extravagantly.  Flamboyantly.  Failed.  You see, I expect everyone to make concessions for my flawed humanness, but I’m not always good at overlooking others’.  Especially my poor, sweet husband.  Yes, he should have told me about the field trip.  But, at the end of the day, the important thing isn’t what the boy was wearing, what was in his lunch, what his lunch was in.  The important “things” aren’t things at all.  They are people.  And my people didn’t have a great morning because I was busy wounding the husband for his transgression.  Ouch.  Yes, I’ll apologize as soon as I see him!

So….I guess the lesson is two-fold.  One, if you hear a message, you better make sure you understand it because I’m betting you’re gonna be tested on it soon!  Two, if you’re as human as I am, you’d best be overlooking people’s little flaws, because you have your own!

Be blessed and tell someone you love them!


About meanderingswithgod

I Write. It’s what I do. It’s as vital a part of me as breathing. I write when I’m happy. I write when I’m sad. I write when I don’t understand. Or when I understand a little too clearly. I write when God’s speaking to me. And when I’m speaking to Him. And, more often than not, it comes out in rhythm and rhyme. In my words, you’ll find laughter and tears, pain and triumph, confusion and clarity. In my words, if you bother to search, you’ll find me. So, it is with both excitement and trepidation that I begin. This blog. This writing that’s been so long coming. My words. God’s words. Don’t worry, you’ll be able to tell the difference. Mine are clumsy, His are eloquent. I hope, as you read my verbal meanderings, that you’ll be blessed and find yourself searching for Him.
This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

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

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

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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 )


Connecting to %s