It all started with a few drops of paint on a white ceiling. But add a "too independent for her own good" teenager into the mix, and you've got a disaster on your hands. What I mean is this.
Over the Christmas holidays, my sister and I decided it would be fun to paint our bathroom. We figured it couldn't be too hard, considering that it's the smallest room in our house. So we got out our supplies and set to work, thinking that it wouldn't take more than an hour. Boy, were we wrong. About five minutes in, I started painting the lines along the ceiling. We had already taken the utmost precaution, lining the whole thing with painter's tape. But right away I noticed that the paint just wouldn't go on like I wanted it to. Soon enough, there were little grey splatters on the ceiling above me. Now I want to go ahead and mention that my sister was all for going and asking our dad to help clean up the mess, but I had other plans. I don't know if I was too wrapped up in the project or if I was afraid the paint wouldn't come off, but I did know one thing for sure: that I was going to fix this all by myself.
I remembered that earlier when we were in our garage picking out the paint for the walls, I noticed a can of white paint on the back of one of the shelves. Can you guess what happened next? That's right. I gave our ceiling a little paint job that made the situation go from bad to worse. So when my mom and dad came downstairs, probably expecting to admire our work, they were greeted by the nasty surprise of large paint smears on the ceiling that looked like water leaks. Long story short, my sister and I ended up babysitting my little brother all afternoon while my mom painted over the ENTIRE ceiling. And I know I said it was a small room, but you try craning your neck up in the air for a few hours and you'll see it wasn't all that easy.
So I'm sure you're wondering why I'd want to share this story. I mean, it wasn't exactly my most triumphant hour, and to be honest, when I saw the damage I was so frustrated that I didn't even see the humor in it when my mom all-too cleverly reminded me that the paint can said flat wall, not flat ceiling. But there's a moral in this story that I think is important for girls around my age to realize. If I had just asked someone else to help, the problem could have been solved in minutes, but I was too busy trying to do it all. I thought that I could fix everything without any help, when I really just made it all worse. In a way, we do the same thing to God sometimes. We try to be too independent, thinking we can make it through life's predicaments relying only on our own capability. But I've learned that as capable as we people can be, God will always be all-powerful and we cannot. So set aside your pride and realize that the answer to life's frustrations is not always common sense. Instead of relying on yourself, who (no offense) is only human and has weaknesses just like any other person, lean on God. He's called the Rock of Ages for a reason, and that reason is that He can withstand our troubles for the long haul. Lastly, learn from my mistake. It's okay to ask people for help when the "wet paint" of your life tries to get the best of you. Accept the extra help, and move on to your next challenge. Because I don't know about you, but I've got too many everyday situations going on to worry about every excess splash of color on my canvas of life.