If you were an admissions counselor, I would be automatically denied because I failed to post this letter on my usual time on my usual day.
Reason for denial: can’t make deadlines.
If you were an admissions counselor, I’d call your office and you’d answer:
G: “Hello this is Heaven’s Office of Admissions, this is God. How can I help you?”
m: “Hi. My name is m. I can’t tell you how excited I am to be talking to you right now. I’ve wanted nothing more than to go to Heaven since I was a little kid. I have heavenly paraphernalia plastered all over my room, I’m the owner of at least 5 WWJD bracelets, and I have a Jesus fish on my bumper sticker. I’m a diehard Heaven Christians fan!”
G: “Did you just use ‘Christians’ as a mascot?”
m: “Yes. No. Maybe. Yes.”
G: “When would you be looking to start?”
m: “Well, as much as I know I should want to start any time, I’d be okay with pushing it off until it’s the right time to go.”
G: “We do run on a rolling admissions basis.”
G: “For those who qualify.”
G: “What’s your GPA?”
G: “Our baseline is a 4.0.”
G: “Hello? Are you still there?”
m: “Yes, sorry. I just stopped breathing for a second.”
G: “Well don’t do that just yet. We haven’t finished the application process yet.”
m: “Do you make exceptions on a case by case basis at all?”
G: “I’m pulling up your transcripts now and I see you got a D in gym class.”
m: “My sneakers didn’t fit right. My big toe was popping out of the top. It affected my kickball skills.”
G: “You failed home economics.”
m: “The oven temperature was clearly off. And you honestly couldn’t even taste the plastic wrapper in the cake. It melted away because of the excessive heat.”
G: “I’m afraid that given your academic history, you wouldn’t be able to handle the demands of this institution.”
m: “But what if I sent you some references?”
G: “Your mother doesn’t count.”
G: “I’m just checking my e-mail now and I see you sent me your statement of purpose already:
I’m sexting you my statement of porpoises.
Sent from my iPhone”
m: “OH NO!”
G: “Oh yes.”
m: “@#$% auto correct!”
G: “You just swore.”
m: “Oh @#$#@%. I just swore on the phone with God. And @#$% I just did it again.”
G: “I’d like to thank you for your call and for your interest, but I’m afraid we can’t accept you at this time. I do wish you the best in your future endeavors.”
m: “But where else is there?”
G: “The only other option is a program far, far south. I hope you like hot weather.”
Thankfully this is not how you roll. Getting into Heaven is actually easier than getting into Harvard.
Thankfully you are NOT an admissions counselor. And if you were, you would be the worst admissions counselor ever—you let anybody in who believes in your Son.
And you do have unbeatable retention rates.
There seems to be a sweeping epidemic running rampant through our generation: an incurable condition in which one needs to document every piece of food one eats throughout the day.
In a collage.
Perhaps it’s the allure of a year in which we weren’t even born yet that makes the 1977 filter of the sushi rolls worthy of capturing on film. Maybe it’s the black and white Willow filter that turns our apple into art. Or, quite possibly, it’s the filter named after a great lake we just couldn’t remember the name of in geography class that makes our breakfast burrito bona fide photography.
Now that I’ve finally obtained a smart phone of my own and joined the ranks of the 21st century, I’ve noticed there have been some unloved objects that haven’t been documented via the Instagrams.
This is the Instagram for the unsung, undocumented heroes of inanimate objects:
An Ode to the Paperclip
More than Functionality
Always Underneath, Never on Top
Don’t Push My Buttons
My Trash, Your Treasure
The Anatomy of a Q-Tip
These exquisite art collages are available for purchase.*
* I’m kidding. Unless you’re not– in which case we’ll start the base price at $1000.
Well, I’m six days into a new year and a lot of monumental things have taken place:
1) I finally have a smart phone
2) I bought an electric blanket since I never turn my heat on
3) I am now the proud owner of a blender (SMOOTHIESSSSSSSSSS)
My quality of life has exponentially changed.
You know I’ve never been one for New Year’s resolutions. While it would be a good idea to set a goal of ingesting more leafy greenery into my digestive system, I always become more reflective in a new year than proactive. I think about what was, what may be. But I never really set any fast and hard deadlines or goals for the new year.
I just like to see what happens.
The other day I was looking at the dashboard on my MacBook right next to the Chi Pet widget I forgot to water four years ago:
And I noticed a sticky note with a quote on it I’ve been neglecting to look at as much as my Chi Pet:
There was a reason I liked it four years ago and a reason it still resonates with me today. I don’t want to be idle in the safe harbor of comfort and familiarity. I’ve always wanted to set sail into the unknown and discover what’s waiting there for me. To discover what You have waiting there for me.
Following your will for me is setting sail into the unknown. And I know I’d be remiss if I didn’t step out in faith and let your winds catch my sails and take me where You want me.
I want to explore, dream, and discover your plans—your wonderful plans for me.
I want to make that my goal this year. To step out in faith, to free myself from the safe harbor. To take advantage of every opportunity that You present to me. To grow by becoming uncomfortable, stretched, challenged. It’s a lot scarier than green leafy vegetables, but a lot more rewarding.
It’s definitely no coincidence that right next to the quote by Mark Twain on my dashboard is this verse:
I’m excited to see what will happen this year because I know you are going to lead me when I’m looking to you to guide me. I can’t think of anything more exciting than that.
So lead on, Master Navigator. Put on a pirate hat, perhaps a parrot on your shoulder and let’s set sail.
My quality of life is going to exponentially change.
But, but– the show provides such a great study into the psyches of 25 spray tanned girls who might tilt heavily towards the side of insanity– talk about entertainment every Monday night for two hours!
And this is why a Christian Bachelor show could never be made.