I like to consider myself moderately intelligent.
But then I accidentally lock myself in stairwells, unintentionally sabotage workplace wedding showers, and unknowingly break into cars.
In fact, I’ve done all of those things in this week alone.
I was deeply engrossed in a task when a coworker came by my cube and surreptitiously handed me a file folder. It’s fairly commonplace to receive vague folders with birthday cards enclosed. We pass them around the office and sign them without letting the birthday person notice. It usually goes off seamlessly.
Or it did, before I joined the company. I accepted the file without even peeking to see whose birthday we were celebrating, and let the file chill on my desk. The file chilled so long, in fact, that I forgot about it for the majority of the day. four hours later, still deeply engrossed in a task, I was interrupted by one of those handy email alerts: I had a meeting coming up in 15 minutes.
Except it wasn’t a meeting, it was a secret wedding shower.
And then I remembered the card. The card that wasn’t actually for an upcoming birthday, but for an impending wedding shower. A 15-minutes-away wedding shower.
I frantically opened the folder, and my fears were verified when I read something hokey about love on the front of the card. I scribbled some generic notes and passed the card along. Returning to my desk, I saw an update for the meeting: “Has anyone seen the card? It’s missing and we need it!”
Anyway. There isn’t really a point to this story, except for the fact that I am a total failure and am probably subconsciously sabotaging the nuptial happiness of others due to my own single spite. Maybe my boss has noticed, because last week she said,
“You’re going to make mistakes, and I’m much more interested in how you handle them.”
I love learning about the geeky details of people’s lives. One friend recently admitted that she’d done competitive baton twirling as a child. I hadn’t even realized competitive baton twirling was a thing that existed. Anyway, she explained further, “people always ask if I ever dropped it in a competition. Everyone drops it! Because you’re trying new stuff. You do tricks that you know you can do, and then you push yourself to try stuff that you aren’t sure you can pull off.”
Contrary to popular belief, I have a life (and plans this afternoon)—so i don’t really have time to dive into an essay about mistakes, and the attitude of the church, and how we only confess our sins to each other when we’re worried about people discovering them on their own, and how God’s grace deserves much more trust and merit than we give it when we are dead-set against ever dropping the baton.
So I’ll let Francis Chan rant about it for me: