I have zits.
You would think by age 50+ that your face would quit producing oil and pimples, but NOOOOOO!
I'm pretty well sick of it. At least I can wear makeup to cover it up or I'd be depressed every time I looked in a mirror. Yes, I enjoy being a girl -- makeup is my friend.
NOTE: You'd enjoy me being a girl too if you had to look at my zits all day.
My complaining makes me think about a story I heard last Sunday from our minister at Highland Park United Methodist Church, Paul Rasmussen. Paul is our top dog at HPUMC and he is our usual preacher at the service where I'm an usher. Anyway, Paul told a story about being late for a meeting at the church. He was running a little late and then when he got to the church he had to drive around and round looking for a parking space. This caused him to get more and more frustrated and mad. He was fuming when he got up to his office where his appointment was waiting.
NOTE: The following quotes are paraphrased by me -- I do not take dictation during church -- only a rare glance at the i-phone on occasion. I never said I was a saint. Saints don't have zits.
As any of us would, Paul dashed in and started apologizing -- "I'm so sorry I was late. I've been driving around and around the parking lot trying to find a space. I bet you even had trouble finding one. It is just awful here with parking. I'm really sorry that it is so bad here."
The man waiting for him said, "Gosh, you're really mad about this aren't you? Well, you don't know what I would give to have a parking lot full of people who wanted to come to my church. You can't imagine what I'd give to be feet away from a vital college campus like SMU. Instead, I drive up to an empty parking lot. That's why I'm here -- I want to get advice from you on how to grow my church into one where we will be flourishing like you."
So, while I'm not accepting these zits enough to show them off, it did make me think about how much better I have it than most people in the world.
What would the kids we help at Community Partners of Dallas give to be your child or mine?
How much would they love being part of a family? Having siblings who live with them? Having a dad to shoot some hoops with? A mom who would tuck them in at night?
I lived a blessed life. A zit or five is easy.