More Than One Way to Make a Mess

I made a mess this morning. Not surprisingly, it happened during the children's sermon -- one of those spontaneous actions that could have benefited from a little forethought. It involved a plant, a larger pot, and the decision to move the plant from the smaller to the larger. You get the picture. A chancel littered with potting soil and the sound of giggling kids. They knew what I knew: that I was in trouble. While I stood there trying to problem solve on the fly while maintaining my thematic stream, Lori stepped out of the pew with a couple of bulletins and proceeded to scoop it up.

What was interesting was the variety of reactions after the service. "You are such a good wife," one said to her. "What kind of message does that send -- the man standing there watching while the woman does all the work," another questioned me. "You just take charge," another complimented Lori. The fact is, all of those observations are fair and true, so far as they go, as is the fact that Lori, merely trying to help, had no symbolic content in mind.

Same action. Multiple meanings. Rather like the sermon, itself. Who knows what the message becomes once it leaves the preacher's lips and takes up residence in the pews? An offence to one; an inspiration to another; an enigma to someone else. Volatile things, these deeds and dictions. All of which is to say that there is more than one way to make a mess.

We could, I suppose, simply be exceedingly careful; and there is something to be said for care. But it is possible, just the same, to be cautious to a fault. I suppose I'll continue to take a prudent risk -- whether or not Lori is around to help me clean up the result.