On one of our many double-backs through the Louvre, the BF and I passed a room partially blocked with a makeshift wall of wood and I peeked inside–just to make sure they weren’t playing a joke on us and keeping the real Mona Lisa hidden.  Instead of her, I saw sculptures scattered about in various states of coverage and repair.  Judging from the amount of wooden crates and plastic sheets strewn alongside the masterpieces, it appeared that I had stumbled upon a museum backlot: Where Sculptures Go to Get Facelifts.  While my fellow passerby tourists snapped photos of legit, purposely presented works of art, I turned away from them all to get this shot.  And thought about how my story has benefitted from a master refurbisher’s hand, and the accompanying periods of quietness rather than adulation.

I do some things well: organize, speak sarcasm, crack inappropriate jokes, lose my temper, drink wine.  But I’ve allowed my confidence to be crumbled over the years by the things I haven’t mastered: rejection, disapproval, patience, the unknown.  These are the issues over which I end up in the workroom.  In that quiet, alone-plus-One stillness, I’ve been scrubbed down and brushed up and whispered upon and prayed over.  The workroom has taken on various appearances over the years: failures, residency, New York…life.  Once, it was a car trip from Birmingham to Atlanta during which I missed a turn and ended up taking a two-hour detour through Chattanooga. He always finds me when I need to be found.  For some reason only He can see perfectly, I am worth the effort.

Anytime I’ve mastered one thing, I realize my complete inadequacy in another area.  I realized today that I’m learning my way around Atlanta (a conclusion reached when I drove to work without nervously peering at signs and got from there to the mall with only one U-turn).  Then I went to get gas and couldn’t find a pump that worked (a conclusion reached when they all had the amount of the last purchase still up and I was convinced my card would be charged for that gas).  I went inside and told the owner I needed pump 5 cleared.  He furrowed his brow and said, “They’re all clear, Sweetheart, you just put your card in and pick up the nozzle.” Thinking to myself, That’s what she said and don’t call me sweetheart, I and my red face returned to the functional pump.  Later I went back to work, where yesterday was good but today was even better as I’m learning the flow and getting to know everyone. After a particularly great experience with a patient, I stepped back into my office and sat down, smiling to myself. Then I realized that I forgot to put on deodorant this morning.

I will always be inept when it comes to something; I just hope that something isn’t laughing at myself for being inept.  Because my faith really took off once I learned to do just that–and around the same time realized that God would never laugh at me, but He sure does enjoy laughing with me.

Speaking of people who screw up a lot, I’ve been reading the book of Acts this week.  And loving it.  First, because of how history went from death to life-giving life in a matter of days.  Second, because the disciples had absolutely no idea what they were doing. And in their total lack of expertise, they were totally blessed.  My favorite part so far is at the end of the first chapter, when the eleven of them are trying to find a replacement for Judas.  They’ve narrowed the candidate list to two, and they begin to pray about which guy they should pick: “Lord, you know everyone’s heart.  Show us which of these two you have chosen.”  Next verse?  “Then they cast lots.”  And that was how they made their final decision.  Because when we don’t know, the least we can do is ask.  And when we still don’t know, we can trust that there’s no such thing as a gamble when Someone has always known.