The Littlebittiest (a confession)

I am a littlebittiest.

The newest evidence has been in my handling of wedding shopping.

How did I start my wedding shopping?  The dress?  The rings?  The cake?

The cake server.

Yup.  The cake server.

Well, it started as a search for a cake server and a knife set.  After only about 2+ hours of internet browsing on Etsy, Bed Bath & Beyond, Google search, Amazon and possibly other sites that I no longer remember, I found the serving set I wanted.

Only, it was extinct.

Not only was it extinct, but lots of brides wanted to find a set.

Not only was it extinct and lots of brides wanted to find a set, but, when one did come up for bids a few days later, the starting bid was a mere $300.

Okay.  Scratch that.

I did, however, find a cake server I liked.  Unfortunately, it was not a wedding cake server, and was not part of a set.  (Well, I found out later that I think it had been part of a set, or at least there was a similiar set, that is no longer in stock . .)

But I did get free shipping.

Now, proudly, I have a cake server with no knife to match and, yes, no cake yet, but a cake server.  A very nice cake server.  Maybe not quite as nice as the $300 cake server, but very nice nonetheless.  Very, very fortunately, though, I did not like the flower that was attached to the $300 cake server I was not getting.  Very, very unfortunately, because Ben is still new at knowing me, he commented that with the right tool we could cut the flower off.

Now we, of course, cannot afford a $300 cake server.  But the thought of being able to make it just right by clipping the flower off made the illogic of buying the $300 cake server seem a bit more logical for a moment.  Ben saw that look in my eye and perhaps slightly panicked.  I then had to think of another reason besides the flower for why I didn’t like the server as much as the far cheaper server I bought.  (No, cheapness did not count.)  So in my mind I quickly found another reason: it didn’t fit the theme as well and as such was a poor choice compared to the elegant, lovely, economical cake server I bought.

I am a littlebittiest.

When given a large task with lots of important things to accomplish, I pick often the tiniest thing to start.  Then I spend so much time on it that I don’t have time for the bigger, really important things, and I have to cram them in at the end.


I am a littlebittiest.

I know this about myself.  But it’s hard to change.  Big tasks seem so big.  My capabilities, I well know, are too little.  So I pick something I feel I can have success in–like choosing the right cake server.  One cake server has about a thousand possibilities.  “Wedding cake server and knife” right now has 1,073 hits on Etsy alone, and I am fairly sure I looked through all of them until somewhere around the time they hit the too-expensive-zone.  And that doesn’t count the other sites I visited.

It’s overwhelming.

Math is not my specialty, but 1,073 cake servers choices x 50,000 cake choices x 7,000,000 decoration choices x 1,000,000,000,000,000 bridal gowns x 4 tuxedo choices is AAAAAAAH!  Overwhelming!  And what about wedding rings?  Aisle runners?  Veil?  SHOES?  AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Ben and I spent our first evening romantically searching for wedding ideas with me looking up cake servers.  (At least, this is the first evening I remember searching.  It’s been a bit of a blur.)

I spent nearly the whole time looking for wedding cake servers.  (I can’t remember what he was looking for.)  Anyway, I didn’t find anything.  When we got to the gas station that night as he drove himself home (and I drive the car back to where I’m staying), God in His grace gave me a new search idea and I found the cake server I wanted.

When I let Ben know, as he was standing outside in the now-night, pumping gas, his response was, in actuality, disappointing.  Not appropriate at all for the shocking delight of finding the cake server.  It was something like, “That’s great.”


The work!  The hours!  The insanity!

I let Ben know that this was not a big enough response for hours of scouring the internet for cake servers (what would we have served the guests with if we didn’t find one–a *gasp* spatula?).

He responded by jumping up and down and cheering Woohoo!

–It was better.  I wasn’t unreasonable enough to tell him that he should continue reiterating what a wonderful cake server choice I’d made through emails, voice mails, texts, and compliments at the dinner table for the rest of our lives.  But I do feel a desire to report to you that he has not once brought up the beautiful cake server I chose in praise since then.

In fact, he has not brought up that momentous-to-me-anyway decision again except–and what I am about to tell you, however upsetting and shocking it will be to you to hear it, is the truth–today when we were at a store and I started browsing cake servers he said something like,

“We don’t need to look at those.  We already have a cake server.”

And then he stood in my way and I could not see past him to the cake servers.

I am a littlebittiest.

But even the littlebitty things I do, I rarely do well.  I often second-guess myself, often realize I’ve made a mistake, and often come to regret the decision I made to spend so much time on it and then execute it so poorly.

Now why am a littlebittiest?  Why do I clench down on the littlebitty and fail to leave time for the bigger picture?

I am a littlebittiest because I want to be perfect, even just once, even in something littlebitty.

I want to do something right, totally right.  And a wedding?  Not a chance.  But a cake server?  There’s that alluring lie that I might be able to.  I just might.  Might be able to do something totally right for once in my life.

But I only got half a set.  I have the server.  I don’t have the knife.  I have half.  2+ hours, and I got half of what I could have if I’d worked at it for 10 minutes.

I do love the cake server.  (I had better love the cake server!)  But I didn’t do a perfect job.  In fact, I never do a perfect job.  No matter how littlebitty the job, it never winds up being perfect.

I have to say, we littlebittiests are pretty wacky.  I’d even go so far as to say we can get delusional.  I mean, what do I really think?  Do I really think that God will see all the slime and half-built sand castles of my life and I’ll say,

“Yes, God.  There’s all that.  But look at this cake server I bought for my wedding.”

Not a chance.

I rely, I desperately rely, on God.

How comforting, how absolutely comforting, to know I have a God who does everything right.  The big things.  The littlebitty things.  Everything He does, He does perfectly.  Without sin.  Without mistake.

And I can rest.  Rest in the Savior’s perfection.  The Savior who did and always does the really big well.  The Savior who did and always does the littlebitty well.  The Savior who always sees the details, and the big picture.

The Savior who, despite seeing all the details of who I really am, and the big picture of my absolute, no-going-back, abysmal failure . . loves me anyway.  Loves me enough that He died in my place, in my place for all the details, and all the big picture, of my burden of sin.

Come to my wedding and you can see my cake server.  Come to God’s wedding feast of redeemed souls united with their Savior and you’ll see the real perfection, in Person.

He is the Rock; his deeds are perfect. Everything he does is just and fair. He is a faithful God who does no wrong; how just and upright he is! (Deuteronomy 32:4, NLT)


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