Posted by michelle on Friday, March 14, 2014 / Labels: lent
I don't reread many books, I rarely rematch movies.
And I am well aware that somethings are better the second time around.
Combine this with a character trait of being too much...
As in I eat too much. I talk too much. I say too much. I buy too much. I drink too much. I even apologize too much.
Pretty much, if anything is worth doing, I believe it is worth overdoing.
And you get a lot of leftovers. Which eventually have to be thrown out.
Right now there is a box of Enos pizza sitting in my fridge.
Enos has the thinnest crust known to man, it is not my favorite pizza, but easily in the top 10... I would marry this pizza if it was legal and I wasn't already spoken for, yet I will have to force myself into eating the leftovers for lunch rather than pulling through for something I like less.
I don't know quite what the aversion is, maybe it is my longing to try new things. To read a new book rather than the same one 5 times. Or maybe it was my moms contentment to mix together whatever leftovers were in the fridge and eat them cold from one container. I am literally gagging thinking about it.
I hate leftovers.
Yet, I also feel bad about excess, I try to not be wasteful or eat too much . And everyone knows that the portion size of one meal at Pappasitos is for 15 rather than one single stomach (and that is before factoring in the 3 baskets of chips I eat before they bring me my food).
So, I ask for a to-go box. I wrap up my leftovers, or a put half the pasta sauce in the freezer. And I inevitably forget about it for at least a year.
And trust me.....when you leave sushi leftovers in your car overnight. In the Texas heat. Well...it is a lesson you only need to learn once, and smell for weeks.
But I am sure that I am missing something here.
Somethings are even better the next day.
Some jokes are only gotten the 23rd time through the movie.
My daughter can quote most Disney movies. Word for word. And I won't even get started on Frozen. And she seems to like them even better the 433rd time. (That very same day). When they were little I had half the kid books memorized. So much of my brain space is taken up with Goodnight Moon (goodnight nobody, goodnight mush) and about every Dr. Sues book known to man. And apparently theirs is too because they could totally tell when I skipped pages. My kids could also eat the same box of frozen corndogs for every meal for at least a week straight. They will probably do just fine getting rid of the little white cartoons in their adult fridgerators.
I avoid leftovers, because I don't want to miss out on something new.
They mean more than that. To mean they are boring, frugal, and the same thing I ate yesterday. However, in reality...leftovers are incredibly extravagant.
Extra. More than we need or can eat or can have our fill of.
They are our "too much."
I read a story this morning about Jesus...not only feeding the 5000 with just a few fish and loaves...and if that isn't crazy enough but pointing out that he had the audacity to have leftovers.
Not only was there enough for everyone, but there was too much. Some to take with them for the road. And that someone in the Bible (or 4 someones) felt the need to note this.
I mean, we know ALMOST nothing about Christ's life from the time he was a baby to when he hit 33.(except for that one cute story about losing him that I'm sure Mary is less than proud of..)
But, we are told about this particular miracle in every single gospel (heck even his birth doesn't show up in every single gospel)....and it doesn't stop with the miracle of feeding a bunch of people. Each story that it takes the time to point out how exactly how much was leftover.
I still live in a world of scarcity. Worrying that there will be enough.
Money at the end of the month.
We are forever worried about running out or someone else getting what we wanted.
And Jesus simply shows us that there is enough.
And that there will be plenty leftover.
12 basketfulls according to Matthew, Mark, Luke and John. And I am pretty sure that is more than will fit in anyone's fridge.
That one little white box in my fridge is starting to sound better and better.
But. We are called to not just eat our fill.
To also give out of this excess.
To unload bag after bag from the back of your car at a Women's shelter, slightly ashamed of my excess. Of all that I had leftover.
Of my too much.
My daughter cried and cried in the backseat because we were giving away one of her dresses.
I tried to explain where it was going. That it was already a tad too short. And that she had a dozen more in her closet. Let someone who doesn't have one get to twirl in it.
She was ok for a minute, the tears subsided and she asked if she could have it back when they were done wearing it.
I said "No, it doesn't work that way." And so she cried some more.
All the way to the snow cone stand where she ordered a red and blue snowcone and ate until the top of her mouth froze, her chin turned purple and she asked me to play the song from Frozen. Again. (and again. and again.) Eventually, 4 rounds of the same song later, we made it home. She had forgotten about her tears. And her dress. And hadn't even finished half of her snowcone.
I asked if she wanted me to put it in the freezer for later or throw it away.
She thought quietly about this for a moment. And then said she had enough and that maybe we could give the rest away.
I don't think anyone really wants the other half of my daughter's melted snow cone.
But. Maybe. She is getting the right idea about left overs.
About having enough.
About being loved so extravagantly she doesn't have to worry about more. Or later. Or running out. Or even how incredibly cute she looks with a purple snowcone goatee in whatever dress she wears.
The little white box in my fridge reminds me of that.
Of being loved by a God that loves extravagantly.
With plenty left over.