Don’t cry over spilled pizza

“MOM! The pizza fell on the floor!”

Sitting in the Cleveland airport, I watched a mom and her two children, a girl about four and a boy about 6, rush past. The mom was dragging a rolling duffel, carrying her daughter’s stuffed animal, her own purse and a bottle of water. She was also somehow holding her daughter’s hand trying to simultaneously speed her little girl up, but not pull her arm out of its socket. And the boy, on his own, had a backpack on and was pulling his own brightly colored mini-suitcase, following his mom and sister as closely as he could. He was very carefully and deliberately holding a little individual pizza box from Pizza Hut too. They were rushing, trying to get to their flight. And I just knew this little boy had it all planned out. He probably couldn’t wait to get situated in his window seat, pull out his DVD player and his favorite movie and then bite into a cheesy piece of pizza while on his way to vacation. Life doesn’t get much better than that!

And then suddenly … Pizza. Floor. Together. Plans gone.
“MOM! The pizza fell on the floor!”

I have a tendency, as do some of my friends I think, to get so far ahead of myself. A job interview and we’ve got our new commute mapped out. A grad school application and we’ve got our own little adult version of “Felicity” running through our head. A first date and we have a mini-vacation planned with this boy…if only he knew. And then, “MOM! The pizza fell on the floor!” You’re not offered the job. Your application is not accepted. And the boy never calls you back. The pizza has so fallen on the floor.

The little boy in the airport though didn’t just blurt out “Pizza on the floor!!” He called for his mom. He wanted, needed help and guidance. What the heck am I supposed to do now? My plans are splattered across this disgusting airport floor! The mom slowed (even though it looked like their plane was boarding at the next gate over). She turned and hugged the boy, took the pizza container and threw it away in the nearby trash and said, "hold on, we’ll find something better when we get on the plane." Now I don’t want to rain on this boy’s parade, but I mean, c’mon, what exactly are you going to find better on the plane?! Nevertheless…

It made me think about how God has thrown away my pizza box repeatedly, hugged me and told me patiently, hold on, we’ll find something better. And so often, I can’t even begin to imagine what could be better. But I cry out to Him, listen to Him and then pout with my arms crossed for awhile because my plans are gone. Time and time again though, throughout my life, He has managed to surprise me. He really did find something better!

And who knows maybe that little boy’s mom has a Mary Poppins-like bag carrying grilled cheese, French fries, chocolate milk and ice cream.