I bet most of you do not know that my hubby has a BBA degree with a minor in computer science from the fine, upstanding Texas Tech University. He sounds like a pretty smart guy, right? I’ve always thought so, too. He constantly amazes me with the stuff he knows how to do. Seriously, there is NOTHING Brad cannot fix or build. And, he is well-versed on a wide variety of topics. Sometimes the four of us will be riding somewhere in the car together, and Brad will spout off some who-in-the-whole-world-would’ve-known-that detail, and the boys and I are convinced he is making it up. One of us will whip out our iPhone to double-check this little known fact, and we’ll be left with mouths gaping open.
But, I need to go on the record here… (Holy smokes! It is scary those words just came out of my keyboard. I have overheard far too much Fox News with Greta Van Susteren…I didn’t even have to google how to spell her last name correctly and that is SCARY!). Anyway, I need to go on the record here… Brad Kendrick does not have a degree of any kind from any where in any kind of math and let me tell you.
He be needing some serious math!
Yesterday. After I have had a loooooong, grueling day at work. (Note: Got up at 4:45am. Left at 5:30am. Drove to Austin. Slaved all day. Made the looooooong trek back home.) I am exhausted. But, I’m exhausted and blessed because my sweet hubby has made dinner. And, not just any dinner, but one of my all-time favorites… breakfast for dinner! I could smell the sausage and eggs the instant I walked in the back door. Yummy! He has it hot and ready. All I have to do is grab my Coke Zero and offer up the blessing. I’m all over it! I thank God for my husband who I love with all my heart and the way he takes such good care of me. I’m sincere about it, too. Really.
I dig in to my eggs, and then I stop. Quick math here. I have three sausage patties and only two biscuits. Hmmmm. Now I do NOT have a math degree either, but I’m quick enough to know something’s not adding up right here. I glance over at Brad’s plate. He has three sausage patties and THREE biscuits. But, I know my sweet honey. I’m figuring he just didn’t want to insult me by putting three sausage patties AND three biscuits on my plate and making me look like a big pig and all. He thought it would probably be better to just leave my other biscuit in the pan on the stove, and then it wouldn’t be like I actually ate three biscuits, more like I ate two and then had one more.
So I do just that. I stick a sausage patty in each of the two biscuits I have on my plate and leave the remaining sausage patty patiently waiting. I woof those down while Brad is eating his THREE sausage patties and THREE biscuits. And then I decide to go get my other biscuit. Whoa, Nellie! Wait just one minute! The pan is empty. EMPTY!
So I say … sweetly … to Brad. Did you eat all the biscuits? He shakes his head and says no. Ok, y’all. Empty pan = he ate all the biscuits, so I come back at him again. In panic mode, he quickly jumps to some complicated math. Big mistake! BIG mistake! This is what he says, “Well the way I figure it, you weigh two-thirds of what I weigh so I get three biscuits and you get two.”
Are you kidding me?! I was talking biscuits and now he wants to talk about how much I weigh?!
Oh, and the mistake does not stop there. His math is all wrong! I quickly grab my iPhone and launch the handy-dandy calculator app for some legitimate math. I say the equation OUT LOUD as I type: 220 times 0.67 (you know that’s like two-thirds) equals 147.4. Oh, he is in BIG trouble. BIG, BIG trouble. He’s gone from doing biscuit math to adding about 30 pounds to my weight. After I point out his FATAL mistake, he quickly begins some serious backtracking.
Too late. He’d done hurt my feelings AND made me mad, so I decided to just eat my FOUR Oreos in peace and give him the silent treatment. AND, I did NOT help with the dishes. There. Take that!
Ok. Seriously. All that really did happen, but I still love my hubby to pieces, and he would want me to clearly and emphatically state here that he does NOT weigh 220 pounds. Of course, being the very keen observer that I am, I know exactly how much he weighs. I only picked 220 because he started it first.
And much later, I got to thinking. Brad isn’t the only one who needs a math lesson. I do, too. And, it has nothing to do with biscuits or weight, but it has everything to do with how I calculate what part of my life is God’s. I do some bad math with God frequently.
Take time. I say I don’t have enough time to read and study my Bible, but when Pinterest or Facebook calls, I can manage to waste a hour or two without hesitation.
Take money. I talk about how my budget is tight and it’s hard to tithe or to give to others in need, but if that cute pair of shoes calls, I somehow always figure out a way to squeeze them in the budget this month.
Take attention. I say I’m busier than ever. I just can’t handle one more thing on my plate, even if it is something important on God’s to do list, but when my cell phone dings with a new text message, I grab it instantly.
Take love. I say I love God and He’s important in my life, but yet I crowd my heart with so many other things that God often just gets what is leftover.
God doesn’t want two-thirds of me or you. He wants all of us!
Thank you, God, for my math lesson. Taught straight from Your Word in Deuteronomy 6:5 NKJV:
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your strength.”