Lessons Learning

Down to my final $200 last week, I made the necessary goal to not buy any fast food or quick bites to nourish myself during the week. I succeeded easily and it was Friday where I learned a simple, great lesson that I can see as being applicable to all goals or efforts to resist temptation. :)

I need to eat. In truth, I could eat breakfast, go the whole day and not eat until dinner again (kinda like on my mission. Don't recall anymore how I pulled that off..cuz I'm such a hunger wimp these days!) but, well, as I just said parenthetically, I'm a hunger wimp these days. So, my goal presented a possible problem: starvation.

I bought a few sandwich items at the beginning of the week and took a little time before work or school to pack myself a little lunch: sandwich, granola bar, chips (Food Should Taste Good Sweet Potato chips y.u.m.) and some whatever else inhabits my mothers fridge. My preparation met my goal and solved my problem. Wait, let me line break for emphasis.

My preparation met my goal and solved my problem. It solved two or three problems really. 1) I saved moolah (and fortunately have since had a pay day and a tax return, huzzah). 2) I ate healthier. 3) I didn't starve!

I realized that this small effort of preparation allowed for dodging the later temptation of buying insta-food to satisfy my mortal hunger. I'll always get hungry. I'll need food to cure it.

You and I may always have certain trials or temptations in mortality. They may never be removed because there will always be an element of teaching in them for our own good. If such is suspected to be our personal case, we can prepare to have a 'home lunch' already packed for when the yearnings or pains come, begging for satisfaction. If we are disciplined beforehand we can become healthier and wealthier and maybe stealthier, just because that's a fun word...

But, today, an experience very telling of my character, I promptly disregarded this "learned" lesson. The lesson has another application, in the story of The Cut Finger.

I am working on becoming inspired for my final sculpture project, and yesterday I stopped by a Thrift Store going out of business (think D.I. + yard sale + Wizard of Oz II), browsing for things until something spoke to me. There was a bucket of tiny, dark-glass, wide neck jars sitting with all its might, contents sparkling in the cherished Spring sunlight. I saw them and, like Dorothy, knew there was more therein than met my eye. We chose each other in that moment; we were both sold. The bucket for $2 and I for the creative potential energy...

The bucket, true to function, had stored up about a gallon of rain water as it waited patiently for me to come. Judging by the slight algae smell and coloration of the bucket, that could have been some time. Many of the small jars were broken and all were dirty so I set out to separating the useful from the deadly and broken. Did I know there was broken glass in the bucket? To say anything but yes would be depressing, so yes, of course. Did I prepare for the inevitable bite of busted blade? Nope.

The jars on top, mostly whole and dry, I could clearly see. With bare and conscious hands I slowly and carefully plucked the fragments from the whole, clearing toward the murky water below. Like the zebra at the disgusting croc-filled watering hole, desperate for life sustaining fluid yet wary of death inflicting jaws of..death, my hand dipped gently into the filth. And like the croc, the glass attacked without warning (excepting the five minutes previous to this moment...)

Unlike the Zebra usually gets to, I instantly whipped my finger free, plunged it under fresh water, applied soap and a Bandaid to the seeping red sliver, and prayed I wasn't now host to some horrific disease.

Why do I let myself get hurt before I remember to supply the protection? I put my hand into one of those rubber gloves (in which I always imagine a spider or earwig has found a cheery home) and continued the task without fear.

I was sticking my hand into a bucket of broken glass! One wears at least one glove. Before. Hand.

But that is, unfortunately, so "me." La di da di da, I'm going to see how close I can get to this cliff before I consider my safety. Stupid. I've fallen off many an obvious cliff because I regarded it as a test of my character instead of a temptation from which to run. Quickly.

The best test or proof of your character often is how fast you can run from temptation. Prepare to run. Prepare to eat. Put a glove on before you reach into a bucket of glass shards. Pretty basic advice.

And now, Gabriella.

This darling angel has been my buddy every now and again recently. She is a third child, like myself. Her mother says she is a very good baby, sleeps well, doesn't fuss much, just loves to live. My mom said the same about me. So she and I are natural friends.

She wears cute clothes. Including these. I may or may not have squealed.

I love babies. Even when they turn into kids. And then attend junior high. And make it through high school. I'm getting old enough now where I can call high school kids kids...And probably old enough to have some of my own. Please.

And this was the thoughtful 1st of April prank (if you could even call it that, though you'd more likely call it an April Fool's joke..) from some girlfriend to hopefully-still-her-somewhat-amused-but-patiently-suffering boyfriend.

And the end. I so hope I don't have a disease...