One fancy Christmas dinner + white
tablecloth + a clumsy me = a recipe for embarrassment and a lesson
learned.
Yes, that's me. The girl who is invited to a fabulously fancy Christmas dinner at a historic mansion. The girl who attempts to delicately pour Honey French dressing on to her bowl of perfectly arranged salad and spills. Granted, it was a quiet spill, no one besides the girl sitting next to me really noticed that a giant orange sticky puddle had collected next to my plate in the starch white tablecloth. My face probably matched the color of that horrendous looking ooze. After blinking at said puddle a few times, I quickly stuck my program for the evening over it. To my dismay, the dressing immediately soaked through the list of musicians and speakers, leaving their names blurred with that blasted French dressing.
As a side note, I never eat French dressing. However, in the spirit of the evening, I'd decided to try it. Never again, French dressing, never again!
Anyway, the dear friend sitting next to me gave a polite giggle as I fumbled for her teacup and saucer to set on top of that paper program that was now sopping with Honey French. Needless to say, I sent up a selfish prayer that I would be able to leave the building before whomever found their how-ever-expensive white tablecloth marred with such a hideous orange stain. Of course, this was not my only infraction for the evening, but definitely the most prominent, and certainly the most embarrassing to myself.
I was mortified as my friend finished drinking her tea. I no doubt looked sallow as the waitress reached down to lift up that teacup to cart it, and it's saucer, back to the kitchen. For a split second, I thought of snatching it from her hand and setting it back over that stain. Or better yet, sticking my nose in the air and pretending I had never seen that sticky orange goo before in my life. Instead, I sputtered through a quick explanation to the waitress, and thanked her in my head for at least leaving the bulletin over the stain so it wasn't brightly (excruciatingly) obvious to all of the other well-dressed ladies at my table. With a sigh, I wagged a finger at the incriminating stain and attempted to enjoy the rest of the program without looking at it glowing in the Christmas light. Only thing to do was smile through the mortifying mess it had made of me.
All in all, I find it rather amusing now. How we let the little thing affect us so much! Even more so, that stain so much is a representative of our sin. In no way am I saying that spilling anything on accident is a sin, but rather, my desperate panic to attempt to cover that stain is so similar to our own covering of sin. We want to make sure no one sees that mistake, no one knows that we have sullied the beautiful, saved life that the Lord has given us. But of course, the Honey French of sin always seeps through and unless we own up and confess it, it will continue to soak into every aspect of our lives. The Lord is “gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy!” Confess it, forsake it, and He will take care of it.
So this Christmas season, keep your sin confessed up before the Saviour and at all costs, avoid Honey French Dressing.
- Beth
Yes, that's me. The girl who is invited to a fabulously fancy Christmas dinner at a historic mansion. The girl who attempts to delicately pour Honey French dressing on to her bowl of perfectly arranged salad and spills. Granted, it was a quiet spill, no one besides the girl sitting next to me really noticed that a giant orange sticky puddle had collected next to my plate in the starch white tablecloth. My face probably matched the color of that horrendous looking ooze. After blinking at said puddle a few times, I quickly stuck my program for the evening over it. To my dismay, the dressing immediately soaked through the list of musicians and speakers, leaving their names blurred with that blasted French dressing.
As a side note, I never eat French dressing. However, in the spirit of the evening, I'd decided to try it. Never again, French dressing, never again!
Anyway, the dear friend sitting next to me gave a polite giggle as I fumbled for her teacup and saucer to set on top of that paper program that was now sopping with Honey French. Needless to say, I sent up a selfish prayer that I would be able to leave the building before whomever found their how-ever-expensive white tablecloth marred with such a hideous orange stain. Of course, this was not my only infraction for the evening, but definitely the most prominent, and certainly the most embarrassing to myself.
I was mortified as my friend finished drinking her tea. I no doubt looked sallow as the waitress reached down to lift up that teacup to cart it, and it's saucer, back to the kitchen. For a split second, I thought of snatching it from her hand and setting it back over that stain. Or better yet, sticking my nose in the air and pretending I had never seen that sticky orange goo before in my life. Instead, I sputtered through a quick explanation to the waitress, and thanked her in my head for at least leaving the bulletin over the stain so it wasn't brightly (excruciatingly) obvious to all of the other well-dressed ladies at my table. With a sigh, I wagged a finger at the incriminating stain and attempted to enjoy the rest of the program without looking at it glowing in the Christmas light. Only thing to do was smile through the mortifying mess it had made of me.
All in all, I find it rather amusing now. How we let the little thing affect us so much! Even more so, that stain so much is a representative of our sin. In no way am I saying that spilling anything on accident is a sin, but rather, my desperate panic to attempt to cover that stain is so similar to our own covering of sin. We want to make sure no one sees that mistake, no one knows that we have sullied the beautiful, saved life that the Lord has given us. But of course, the Honey French of sin always seeps through and unless we own up and confess it, it will continue to soak into every aspect of our lives. The Lord is “gracious, and full of compassion; slow to anger, and of great mercy!” Confess it, forsake it, and He will take care of it.
So this Christmas season, keep your sin confessed up before the Saviour and at all costs, avoid Honey French Dressing.
- Beth
Great analogy! Thanks for sharing!
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