Lessons Learned From A Dishwasher Disaster

   This past weekend was a blur of craziness... but within the blur, there was one experience that stands out, because I learned something from it that I'll (hopefully) never forget.

  As you might remember, I work at a small upscale restaurant, but before I joined the ranks of the bussers and waitresses, I started off as a dishwasher. Now last week, I got called into work on Saturday night for dishwashing because the regular dishwasher couldn't do it. Not to be egotistical or anything, but I'm probably one of their fastest dishwashers...I can usually get everything done in record time. Actually, I think I'm better at it than waitressing, and usually I don't mind taking over shifts, but this time I was hesitant to agree because I had to get up early Sunday morning to sing at church. But to be a good employee, I grudgingly agreed.  
   
   After a long Friday night of working, and a Saturday afternoon of rehearsals, errands, and preparing for singing the next day, I was less than thrilled about going into work for 6 hours. I think as a result of neglecting my prayer time that morning, I was starting to feel the effects: agitation, worry, distrust. But I just said a hurried prayer and moved on.

   Well, if I had known what a heck of a night it was gonna be, I would have 1) taken more time to pray, and 2) probably felt like Jesus before His passion...intense dread.

   When I got there, I was informed that one of my bosses (and also the co-owner) had thrown her back out and couldn't work. She's usually the head waitress, so they had to call in another, somewhat inexperienced girl to step in for her. That was the first indication of a stressful night.

   Everything went smoothly for the first seating though, and around 8:00, we started preparing for the 8:30 seating as usual. I happened to notice that the glasses had started coming out of the 90-second high power dishwasher a bit foggy, so I decided I should probably drain and refill it. The process is a little complicated, but I managed to remember. Except for one small detail--taking out the circular plug from the plastic strainer compartment. I remembered a little late, but when I went to press the start button, nothing happened.

   The sous chef, Anna (who is also the head chef's daughter), explained to me what I had done wrong and told me to do it over again. I did. And still, there was nothing. While Anna prepared the meal, her dad tried to fix it. They assured me it wasn't my fault since it had happened before. Fifteen minutes later, we were in a panic. Chef couldn't get it working, the waitresses were behind, the first course was running late because there was only one person making it, and I was trying to keep on top of hand-washing the dishes. Chef looked up at me and said, “Molly, I hope you said your prayers because you might be hand-washing the rest of the night.” Okay, you're talking a fancy five-course meal, with lots of silverware, glasses, plates, plus pots and pans.

   
   I had a mini-heart attack and launched into a rapid string of silent prayers. I said every prayer I know, called upon nearly all the saints' intercession, asked my friend Jo (who was working with me) to pray too, and tried my very hardest to put my trust in God. I thought for sure He would be merciful enough to zap the dishwasher and make it work so I wouldn't have to go through that. I thought I was in a bad dream. Chef couldn't take any more time trying to fix it. But still, I kept saying my prayers, hoping for a miracle.
 
   I got nothing.

   I was on the brink of tears after an exhausting day, with the endless night looming ahead of me, and I was so upset at the Lord. How could He let me down? How could He not come through even when I apologized for neglecting Him and had prayed so hard? I thought I might just collapse from fatigue and stress, but miraculously, I didn't. It was the weirdest thing, but I suddenly felt a surge of strength and was able to get in my zone, working doubly hard. Everything around me seemed to be falling apart, but all I could do was hold up my end of keeping on top of dishes, and gosh darn it, I did my best. It says in the Bible about almsgiving, “Do not let your right hand know what your left hand is doing.” Well, I took that literally. One hand was washing while another was drying.

   With a little help from my co-workers and some chocolate cake, I made it through. I stayed on top of everything under the pressure and didn't have a nervous breakdown. And here's something even crazier: I was done the same time I usually am even with the dishwasher! Everyone, myself included, was pretty shocked.

   I couldn't understand the whole night why the dishwasher never started up again after I had literally begged God to fix it. But as I finished up and headed home, something dawned on me. I remembered hearing a few times that while God might not answer even our most desperate prayer, He will give us the strength to get us through the hardship we're praying to get out of.

   And I realized that's exactly what happened. I thought He had ignored me and decided I needed to work myself to death that night. But no, He gave me super-human strength and energy to complete the job and not give up. When I look back on it, I now realize there's no way it was me who did it. It had to be Him...so really, He didn't let me down after all.  
   
   It completely changed how I look at prayers being answered in the way we want. It also proved to me that “God's power is made perfect in weakness,” as St. Paul says. Sometimes God responds right away and miracles do happen. But often we're left wondering if He even cares. I'm here to tell you...He does. Maybe if He doesn't answer in a miracle, we can instead pray for help to get through our trouble rather than out of it. That's often when He surprises us with His strength. 

   So all in all, what I took away from the night was: chocolate cake is an amazing energy booster, always make sure you drain a dishwasher properly, and God knows what He's doing.

Say What?

   Ever seen those little memes floating around Pinterest and other social media sites called “Daily Odd Compliments”? You know, like this one:

(from Pinterest.com)

 Yeah, those. So touching. Personally, I think most of them are pretty dumb, although a few have made me chuckle.

   Well, as I happened across some of them the other day, I recalled some of the weird (and often comical) compliments I’ve either gotten or heard about in my life, and thought I would make my own real-life “Odd Compliments” post. 

   I'm pretty sure the people giving them meant them to be sincere compliments...but most of them were the type that you don't know whether to reply with "Thanks" or "Sorry."

   Anyway, I thought I’d pass them on, just in case you need some fresh ideas for “flattering” someone. 

****

An older lady we know recently asked how old I was, and I told her 17. She said "Oh honey, ya don't look it, trust me. I thought you were in 6th grade!"

After dancing with a man at a ballroom dance social, he asked me, "So are you a gymnast?" 

I replied, "No, but I'm a ballerina." 

 His response: "Oh, I was just wondering because you have extremely strong hands for such a tiny girl." Um, thanks?

My best friend also received a comment on her dancing at a ballroom social. Usually the gentleman will politely thank the lady after each dance. But after she had stumbled through a samba (which she didn't know very well) with this particular gentleman, he walked her back to her seat and just said, "Well, thanks for trying!"

A lady came up to me after I sang at church and asked, "Honey, are you taking voice lessons?" I replied yes, and she nodded and simply said, "Oh. Well keep 'em up!" 

When I was 9, our family went out to brunch with another family one Sunday, and naturally I got a kid menu to choose from. After 5 minutes of trying to decide what to get, my mom asked me to give back my menu. She handed it back to the waitress, smiled, and said loud and clear, "We're going to get an adult menu for her instead, because she has a hefty appetite." Thanks a ton, mom. 

My sister told me the story of when she was going out to eat with our grandparents, and she was wearing a dress with brown leather rider boots and a brown leather side purse--goin' for the cute/casual combo that's been the fad lately. They came to pick her up, and when she got in the car, my grandpa said to her, "You look like a 16th-century shepherd, with your boots and saddlebag!"

One night at work, while dishwashing, I got so buried in dishes that I knew I'd be there till morning if I didn't throw my whole back into it and work my tail off.  So I gritted my teeth and resolved to clean everything up in 20 minutes flat. I don't think I've worked so hard in my entire life. And just as I was finishing up, with sweat pouring down my face, my boss looked over at me with her jaw open, stared for a second, and finally stammered "OMG Molly, you're an animal!" I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. But I said thanks anyway. 

Probably one of the worst compliments you ever want to get (and I've heard before), is that something "looks homemade". Don't get me wrong, homemade stuff is great and all, but if someone says it LOOKS like you made it, chances are it needs some help.

I also play flute at church, but apparently not many people pay too much attention to it. Recently I saw a man from church at an event, and he went on for about 5 minutes to my sister about how talented a musician she is, and then he turned to me and said,"Oh, and what's that thing you blow into?" 

One of my favorites is a remark that was given to my grandpa. In his twenties, he sang in a small all-male choir, and after one of their performances, one of his friends came up to him and said, "Nice job, Bruce...you really stood out!" 

****

Hope you enjoyed these...but if not, you can just tell me, "Good wasn't the word for it." And I'll take that the way I want. 

"Let Every Heart Prepare Him Room..."

                                   *cough* 

   We're just going to ignore the fact that I haven’t posted in 3 weeks. Sorry, I was too busy watching Christmas movies. 

   This whole month I’ve been extremely psyched and gung-ho about Christmas- and winter-related activities. Oh you know, the usual: ice skating (on our own backyard ice rink), caroling, holiday parties, shopping, cutting down a Christmas tree, baking and decorating Christmas cookies…

   

   I was so excited about all the possible fun stuff I could do, not to mention getting off work on a Friday night, that all my enthusiasm and great plans have carried me through almost the whole month of December... without actually doing any of them.

   

   Seriously, you can imagine my disappointment when I realized yesterday that it was December 22^nd--and the only cute, festive activity I’d actually done is make homemade salted caramel hot chocolate. I love Christmas Day and all, but the weeks leading up to it are the height of festivities, and they’ve whooshed right by me.

   

   Even the exhilarating adventure of chopping down our Christmas tree was kind of a letdown. We arrived at the tree farm, armed with a measuring tape and a saw, but just as we were about to brave the blowing snow and roam the acres of tundra in search of the perfect tree, we happened to walk past a row of pre-cut evergreens. My dad held one up to look at, just for the heck of it, and ten minutes later, it was on top of our car as we drove home. I mean, I suppose it was convenient that the very first tree we looked at happened to be the perfect one, but so much for the 6 layers of socks and invigorating trek into the woods. I felt a little cheated.

   

   In a mood of self-pity because I hadn’t done all this fun social stuff, I happened to flip to the Christian radio station and Brandon Heath’s Christmas song “Just A Girl” was on. I hadn’t heard it before, and was about to switch the station when I got drawn in by the cool guitar part and melody.

   

   As I listened to the nativity story told through the eyes of the innkeeper, my mood slowly began to change.

   

   It’s impossible in my household not to know this story inside and out…and honestly, it can get a bit stale sometimes. As important as the Christmas story is, I sometimes get sick of hearing the same old historical events year after year.

   

   But when I listened to this fresh perspective and different twist on Christ’s birth, everything become alive again, and I got chills as I pictured what he was narrating.

   

   It was exactly what I needed to hear. I could hear the Lord telling me that I was completely missing the point of the Christmas season. The same point that has been drilled into me year after year by my parents and at church. 

   

   No wonder I felt so empty and shallow. I had so focused all my time and energy for three and a half weeks on secular holiday doings (or wishing for them anyway) that I had neglected bettering myself and preparing a place for Christ in my heart.

   

   I felt like a little kid as those hackneyed phrases ran through my mind: “Jesus is the reason for the season”--“It’s not about getting, it’s about giving”--“Don’t get caught up in the hustle and bustle. Remember what we’re celebrating.”

   

   And so better late than never, in these last few days before Christmas, I’ve been trying to do a speed cleansing of the soul. A quick version of Advent...4 days!

   

   I won’t say something utterly cliché about not losing the real reason for Christmas…but maybe we should just try to find a new point of view and listen when God calls us in a different way than we expected.

   

   I think the words of the well-known Advent hymn are a lovely prayer to help us do this:

“Come, Thou long expected Jesus, 

Born to set Thy people free!
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.”

Well, enjoy the rest of your Advent!

…or, wait, have a Merry Christmas!

Starbucks Trip... Turned Cold

(from Google.com)

   As much as I love coffee, I surprisingly don’t get to Starbucks very often.

   
   Maybe it’s because I think $5 is absurd for a “tall” (small) cup o’ joe, or because every time I want to go, I don’t have a ride or don’t look adorable enough.

   Because it’s a well-known fact: you can’t go into Starbucks looking like a bear out of hibernation. That’s why today was the first time in three months that I actually got there.

   
   I woke up thinking, “The only way I’m gonna get out of bed today is if I make myself look decent for Mass and then treat myself to Starbucks...” So I got all ready, looked pretty cute for a Monday morning, and succeeded in convincing my mom to drive me over there (because I still need to work on that license...).

   
   I had been drooling all morning, imagining the feel of a hot Gingerbread or Caramel latte in my hand, and I got even more hyped up when I walked in the door and was overcome by the heavenly scent of coffee.

   
   Ok so I have no life. But hey, it’s the little things in life that matter.

   
   I stood at the counter for a minute squinting at the small sign (since I didn’t have my glasses on) and finally decided on the "Caramel Brulée" Frappuccino. All you Starbucks connoisseurs out there can laugh at me all you want, but I forgot that "Frappuccino" in normal language means “cold”. I thought about asking for it to be hot, but didn’t want to sound like an idiot.

   
   I was already shivering, mind you, due to the abrupt weather change. So when my order was an undersized (smaller than I remember) cup of iced coffee, I practically cried. Not to mention it wasn’t even a cute cup like all the other hot drinks I’d just seen.           But alas, I’m too prideful to say to the young girl that I have no brains and actually wanted a hot one.

   
   Luckily, it was still delicious, and I didn’t even mind that my whole body was trembling and my lips were purple.

   I waited patiently by the door for my mom to pick me up, trying to look as least pathetic as possible. I failed.

   5 minutes later, I was still waiting there like a sad little dog by the window.

   5 more minutes, half my beverage was gone, and I’d seen the same man pass through the door a few times. I think he felt bad for me because he smiled…

   5 more minutes… Tried my mom’s cell a few times to no avail.

   15 minutes is usually a short amount of time… but not when you’re standing in Starbucks trying to look cool as people brush past you in and out the door. I wish I’d at least had a bell and a bucket so I could’ve pretended I was from the Salvation Army.

   
   By then I was freezing, annoyed, worried about not getting my school done, and had an empty (cold) cup in my hand. So much for being all warm and cozy and cute, with a warm drink in a Christmas cup.

   At last, she came, and I quietly slipped into out into our beautiful monstrous minivan.

   The good side was that the caffeine finally kicked in and I had a pretty good day… wrapped up in a snowsuit and blanket. Gotta love coffee after all.

(from Google.com)

Adventures in the Grocery Store

   You know you’ve been too busy when you haven’t gotten to Wegmans for a month. 

   

   It’s pathetic really….and then when you do go, you feel like an old lady, forgetting where the bread is.

  

   What should have been a quick 15-minute trip there yesterday, ended up being an hour-long excursion of aimless wandering, as I trekked through the labyrinth of aisles for Spanish rice and marshmallows.  

   You’d think the big marked signs would help. But what they don’t you tell is where stuff like Guacamole mix is. I guess you’re supposed to infer that it’s in the Refried Beans aisle but seriously, who has time to think that through?

   The produce section is the worst though because there’s no signs whatsoever for guidance. If there was ever a time I wanted a huge, ugly piece of poster board broadcasting “BROCCOLI HERE”, it was yesterday.
   But no, I had to wander through the entire section like a dazed tourist in a museum, cocking her head in every direction, surveying the breathtaking view of carrots and beets, while desperately trying to locate my object.

   I found the broccoli eventually, but when the same thing happened with the avocados, my frustration mounted. So I choked down my pride and decided to just ask an employee. I was not roaming that place any more.

   “Avocados? Yeah, they’re right behind you, miss.”, was the answer I got.

   Oh, you mean those two gigantic bins stuffed to the brim with them that I’ve been walking past for the last half hour? Awesome.

   Of course, they had three different types of them so I called my mom to see which ones she wanted. But there was no answer. So no doubt the guy was amused when I walked away without getting any, mumbling “Like I know which kind she wants.”

   

   I’m usually with someone whenever I grocery shop, so to make it more efficient, we split up to opposite sides of the store. Except it really doesn’t save time, because we always forget to designate a spot to meet up, and just set out on a wild goose chase. Plus, you can’t get cell service in the back of the store so that rules out that idea.

   Once my mom sent me off to get something in the store when I was younger and forgot to tell me where she was gonna be. After 20 minutes of looking for each other, she decided to just have my name paged over the loud speaker to come up to the front desk.
   They even added at the end, "Your mom is looking for you."
   Talk about humiliating… I would have rather kept drifting around lost than endure that embarrassment.

   The other thing I love about grocery shopping is when you walk up to a cash register with two half-gallon containers of ice cream, a dozen donuts, a jumbo Hershey’s bar…and a bag of salad. And the young guy just kinda smiles at you…

   Hey, you know, just trying to balance out my diet a little.

   Well, that’s it for my grocery store rants.

   

   I really shouldn’t complain, because I’ve heard some areas don’t even have Wegmans, and to me that’s about the worst catastrophe and deprivation you can have, so I’ll put up with the slight inconvenience of getting lost, or not finding an item for a few hours. 

In any case, happy shopping!

Fall Frolicking

(from Pinterest.com)

Don't you just swoon over the aroma of fresh apple pie?

Gaze awe-struck at the golden, rusty, and crimson flaming hues of the trees? 

Tingle with delight over the crisp, sunny days of hayrides, apple-picking, and football games? 

****

From September to November, you'll find my cupboards stuffed with pumpkin goodies, rows of boots lined up by the door, the football gear proudly displayed, the house practically ablaze with spiced candles...

Yep, I love everything about it. 

I attempted this year to take snapshots of all my favorite things of Fall, but realized that's impossible. So here's only a few of the lovely elements of this season:

Big sweaters and boots, leaves crunching under you...

Hot mulled cider from my work place...

 Every fall candle scent imaginable...no it's not overkill... 

Apple-picking at old-fashioned farms...

And for a laugh, here's our pumpkin that somehow decided to collapse on itself, just as we were getting ready to carve it...

"I'm so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers."
~L.M. Montgomery

Enjoy the last week of this beautiful month! 

A Random Update for Your Enjoyment

In case you’ve had a burning desire to know what’s going on in my life (because I know you have), I wanted to inform you that nothing is new.

So there you go. Don’t be too jealous now.

But okay, there have been some little happenings of the week that I’ll be glad to recount. So hold on to your seats as you read some of the most exhilarating moments of my life.

Found this in a new purse...suspicious quotation marks...

Blonde moment of the week: I was trying to figure out how to tap into our Wifi on my dad’s laptop a few days ago and couldn’t seem to get it to work. So naturally, I typed into Google “How to get Wifi on a Mac."
Yeah, just never mind.

I was told by my ballroom dance instructor that I have a natural talent for salsa dancing. Made me laugh ‘cause I’m probably the farthest thing from a tall, dark, Latino dancer.

While my sister was home from college last weekend, she offered to make me a cup of chai tea. Now normally, I'd turn my nose up at the dark, murky, bitter concoction and have green tea instead, but she assured me of her newly-improved brewer skills and told me I'd love it. Half an hour later, I had to admit she was right. A little bit of cream, honey, vanilla extract, and cinnamon were the secret ingredients. I sipped a delicious beverage, perfectly sweet and spicy, and just the right temp. Never mind that it looked like mushroom soup with specks of floating coffee grounds.
 And now I'm hooked. Guess she actually is learning some worthwhile stuff at college.

I also learned that you don't know how addicted you are to internet and phone, until your brother accidentally rips the cable out for the landline and internet connection. I felt so isolated from everything, sitting alone in my room, eating candy. Rough life man... but it made me think, just imagine how much stuff I could accomplish if I went unplugged more often.

Well that's all I can think of for now. But I'll be sure to post soon. *Cough* 
(No promises though.)

Enjoy your weekend anyway!