Ever since I could remember I have wanted a feedlefuster, and not just any feedlefuster. I have invested hours planning each and every detail of the perfect feedlefuster for me. I have tweaked the design in my head to better fit into each passing phase of my life, downgrading the original wants and desires to something more manageable as I have aged, but clinging to those elements that I knew I must have to make having my own feedlefuster worthwhile and enjoyable. So no longer did I want the seventy six ortasnogs or the 37 ribberblasts. I had determined all I really needed to be happy with my feedlefuster were 2 ortasnogs and 3 ribberblasts, but no matter what I had to have the bellazous. I, mean, who could possible enjoy a feedlefuster without a bellazous?
So when Ty said that it was time that we should finally get a feedlefuster, I was thrilled! I began polishing up my feedlefuster design and prepared to go shopping. I sat him down and explained to him in no uncertain terms that this was the feedlefuster that we were looking for, and that this is why we needed those oh so important features. That is when Ty looked at me and said, “It’s all well and good to dream big, but you can’t always get what you want.” He then proceeded to show me an array of feedlefusters that did not have a single ortasnog and only one ribberblast. And get this not a single bellazous to be seen! There wasn’t even a place to add a bellazous – ANYWHERE!
To say that I was appalled is the understatement of the century. I was devastated. What was this man who said he loved me thinking by suggesting such a thing? Didn’t he realize that I had to have a bellazous with my feedlefuster? I had been promised a feedlefuster with bellazous. We had discussed this and agreed that we both wanted one and now he was acting like we had agreed to get a pet unicorn or some other crazy thing that simply did not exist. He was acting as if all those conversations were a joke that I had been in on, or was that target of?
So I stopped. I stopped looking a feedlefusters. I stopped thinking about them, stopped discussing them, and most definitely refused to be a part of his shopping for one. It just hurt too much to think about settling for something I didn’t want when this was so important to me. Not that he noticed. He just kept showing me ads for the feedlefusters he liked, and I kept dying inside a little with each and every one he showed me and resenting him a little more each time for dashing my hopes and dreams of the perfect feedlefuster.
Until last night, when he asked me to look at the latest feedlefuster he had found. Oh crackers, it was awful! I just sat there all numb looking at its blue berrymauts and the 9 bifflewits – have I mentioned I hate bifflewits? It even had a rubber top on its goobersmet. Who puts rubber tops on goobersmets anymore? And I realized, this was what I was going to end up with. There was no avoiding it, and I just needed to accept that fact that I was never going to get a bellazous or a single ortasnog. It is just not happening, and I needed to make peace with it.
Lying in bed, I couldn’t even pray, not about the feedlefuster. If I even tried I was certain I was going to break into a thousand little pieces that could not be put back together, and I didn’t want to have to clean up that mess. So I hid. Deep in my mind, in my favorite place, I began turning over the words of Genesis 1:1, letting them roll through me until they were all that mattered. I asked God about how he occupied himself before creation, what was it like to be there in eternity before he filled the universe with life apart from himself, and a thousand other mysteries he has yet to reveal to humanity.
But God wasn’t having any of my over spiritualized cowardice. (Grrr!)
“Why aren’t you praying about the feedlefuster?” he asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” I responded.
“Are you saying that what I have to say about it doesn’t matter?” he pushed. “Are you saying that you are perfectly okay with believing that I can speak the universe into existence, but you don’t think I can take care of this?”
I protested. “He is asking me to…
He cut me off, “What if I am asking you to be okay with it?”
This is where I got smacked in the face with one of the things I have been teaching for a while now. Ty is my husband, he’s the head of my household, and I believe that the Scripture is pretty clear that I am supposed to submit to him. (Double grrr!) Now, this doesn’t mean I don’t have a voice in our marriage. It doesn’t mean that Ty automatically gets his way in everything, and it doesn’t mean that I am door mat. It simply means that every team has to have a leader, and I agreed to let him be mine. There are times when I put my foot down, and I put it down hard. But I reserve those times for things that I believe are morally or ethically wrong, and let’s face it, it’s hard to argue the morality of a feedlefuster. It’s a tool, and nothing else.
Am I happy that my wants in this matter are being ignored? Not by a long shot, and I don’t think I have to be happy about it. But I can’t afford to be bitter, and that is where I was heading in all my angst. I signed on for this. It doesn’t make Ty right or his opinion on this superior to mine, and I am free to disagree all I want to. I just need to do it in a way that doesn’t lead to resentment on my part, and do you know who is responsible for that? Me.
And here is the worst part, my bitterness and resentment wasn’t all directed at Ty. He’s an imperfect man, and I knew that going into this marriage. I also knew that I was entering into a sacred covenant wherein we both have obligations, and I did so believing that God has reason and purpose for this design. When I buck it like I have been, I am saying there is flaw in the design. I am saying that God cannot be trusted, and I am declaring that my wants are more important that God’s decrees.
I am also saying that I am willing to sacrifice the truth of what I believe and my marriage for a silly feedlefuster. That I love the feedlefuster I have always wanted more than I love Ty or my God, and if I were to be brutally honest with myself that feedlefuster has become a bit of an idol in my life. Not that there is anything wrong with having a feedlefuster, most of my friends do and they love it, they are using it for ministry, and it a huge blessing in their life. I just can’t let it be more important to me than obedience or love.
So if you see me with a rubber topped feedlefuster, don’t expect me to do a jig over it. I am probably never going to be ecstatic over it, but I can make peace with it. In the end it is not really about what I have anyways, it is about my heart and my attitude and what I do with what I have been given. So I will choose to walk in faith, trusting in God’s decree and design, and rejoicing in him even when I don’t get what I want because I am wise enough to know maturity stinks sometimes and the right thing isn’t always easy. And if a thing, anything, even a feedlefuster, makes me miserable, I have lost sight of how great my God my truly is and that just won’t fly.
*If you are wondering what in the world is a feedlefuster, you are not alone. I chose not to identify this object of contention, because it really doesn’t matter what the precise nature of thing is. We all have a feedlefuster in our lives, that thing we think we can’t be happy without, and for each one of us it is different. So instead of wondering what my feedlefuster is, just insert your own into the story, and ask yourself the question God put to me – What if he is the one asking you to modify your wants? Can you trust him with that or is that particular idol getting in your way?
photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/130467353@N06/16417954196">Paris, Museum of Inventions</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/2.0/">(license)</a>
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