Me and My Shadow (Box)

 I should know better. I DO know better. But pride is so often so smooth, so slippery, so seductive that it easily slides into my subconscious.

I decided to hang my military shadow box on our wall, but I couldn’t figure out how to match the slots on the back of the box with the screws I’d need to drill into the drywall.

Pencil markings might work, but I wasn’t sure if I could precisely match where the screw heads needed to be to hang the shadow box.

After several minutes, the idea dropped into my head to rub a little dish soap onto the wood above the shadow box holes and then press the box against the wall. Would the soap leave a residue on the wall?

Voila! It worked! I now knew where to drill the holes so the screw heads would fit securely into the back of the box. As I drilled pilot holes into the dry wall, I gave a cursory glance toward heaven, thanked the Lord for the idea, and then promptly congratulated myself for being so ingenious.

A minute later, with the pilot holes drilled and screws neatly in place, I tried to hang the shadow box. But the screws were off by a fraction – just enough so the box didn’t fit.

I drilled another hole next to the one that was off. It still didn’t fit. So, I drilled a THIRD hold. The box STILL didn’t fit.

So much for my ingenuity.

And that’s when it happened. No sooner had the last syllable of “so much for my ingenuity” left my tongue, no sooner had I said to God (admittedly in a roundabout way) that I’m not as smart as I like to think I am – I lifted the shadow box onto the screws one last time – and the box fell neatly into place.

I was stunned. I’d been messing with that thing for 15 minutes, but as soon as I admitted to myself that I’m not so ‘ingenious,’ God fixed it for me.

Just like that.

I wonder if He was smiling to Himself as He taught me another lesson in humility. I like to think He was.