It's hard for me to admit this:
But man OH MAN, pride goeth before the fall. Literally. As in, chocolate banana bread fell all over the kitchen floor.
And inside the oven.
And on the stove top.
It was too disastrous to photograph. And I cried. And Michael somehow already was wearing his superman cape and quickly ran to the store to get me more bananas and Reese's PB cups so I could start over. And that was after I did nothing but stand frozen in disbelief as he used a dust pan to scoop the batter on the floor into the trash, de-crusted the batter that had fried against the hot oven door, and wiped the stove top clean. I think Michael knows by now that when something like this happens, I tend to melt down into an very sad mess, and he has learned that the best way to avoid this happening is to act quickly. Clean it up! Check. Run to the store! Check. Say kind things like "well, that was a first" and "well now we know what banana bread batter looks like on the floor" and "you know what? I actually really wanted to go outside. I was tired of sitting. I'll just run to the store and be back in a jiffy."
And I'm just standing their frozen in utter disbelief because I have dumped banana bread all over the floor.
All of this happened on Easter's eve. I was baking on Saturday for a brunch we were going to on Sunday so that we wouldn't have to worry about it on Sunday morning and could just enjoy the morning and drink coffee and be grateful for Jesus and not rush around like wild animals to get out the door on time. But no matter how much I planned in advance, I still ended up with banana bread all over the kitchen floor, and we were not as on-time as I would have liked for an Easter service we attended on Saturday evening, and because we were not as on-time as I would have liked, we had to sit in the balcony (no me gusta) behind a giant stone pillar that totally and completely blocked our view of anything at all except the giant stone pillar, and all in all, I was feeling disgruntled, if you know what I mean.
No? I will tell you what I mean: I was totally writing my autobiography befittingly titled "Carey Beth and the terrible, horrible, no-good very bad day." On Easter's eve, of all times.
But honestly, it wasn't a bad day at all. Saturday was gorgeous and a brief glimpse of springtime here in DC (finally! But what on earth happened on Sunday? We went back to November.) I had gone for a run along the river and sat outside to read which is pretty much my favorite thing in the world (reading, not the running.) But somehow in the mix of the banana bread fiasco, finding a parking spot that would make it actually worth the fact that we drove to church instead of walked there, and being sufficiently late enough (in reality, we were still 15 minutes early) to have to sit behind a giant pillar, I had totally forgotten that it was Easter and that the whole point of the banana bread and going to church in the first place was not AT ALL about me and my wacked-up priorities, but about Jesus.
It was all about celebrating Jesus.
Easter means the risen Lord -- and this, THIS -- is good news for you and for me. This is what causes me to slow down, and to not freak out, and to not turn into a crazy woman. This is the reminder that the Lord allures me and speaks tenderly to me and that he has betrothed me to him forever. This is the truth that because he is risen, I am free to not let such trivial things unnerve me and consume me. Because he is risen, I can rest in his grace. I can cease striving, and sit with the knowledge that his love is the only kind of love I can ever be secure in, since it is the only kind of love I can't possibly lose. (That last bit is from Tim Keller.)
Banana bread on the floor? There are worse things.
Terrible seats at church? I can worship the Lord just as well from here.
Still late to brunch on Sunday even though you baked the day before so as to be on time? Oh well.
Feeling your major need for humility? God gives grace to the humble.
Dear friends grieving over some hard changes happening in their lives? "Call to me and I will answer, and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know."
Need a savior every day, not just Easter Sunday?
Lord, not what I will, but what thou. Not what I, in my misery, and ignorance, and blindness, and sin, but what thou, in Thy mercy, and holiness, and wisdom, and love - E.B. Pusey