Sailing Away in a Gravy Boat

Have I ever told you how clumsy I am? I am very clumsy, especially when my autoimmune disorder flares up or its that time of the month. (Sorry. Perhaps that last one is a little personal. It is what it is.)

I really liked my college microbiology professor. He was funny and kind and invited all of us students to his house for a cook-out at the end of the summer. I remember having a sweet conversation with his mom as we enjoyed hot dogs and potato chips. This particular professor was also very patient. One morning, during one of my clumsy periods, he was instructing the class on how to hold on to a test tube filled with bacteria. He asked me to demonstrate.

“Hold the test tube on the bottom,” he said.

I proceeded to hold the test tube in the middle.

“Hold the test tube on the bottom,” he repeated again.

I proceeded to hold the test tube in the middle.

“Please hold the test tube on the bottom,” one more time.

I proceeded to drop the test tube.

A few years ago, at a delicious Thanksgiving dinner prepared by mom, I was wearing my favorite loose-fitting dress and leggings. We had all sat down and my dad had prayed, in his usual unassuming and gentle way. (I love listening to my dad pray.) I scooped a giant mound of fluffy, buttery mashed potatoes onto my plate. Naturally, I wanted the gravy next. I asked my sister to pass the gravy boat, and of course she obliged. Who would deprive their sister of gravy on Thanksgiving day?

I gripped the porcelain handle of the gravy boat.

I lifted the gravy boat into the air.

I dropped the gravy boat.

The gravy followed a very decisive path. A small amount landed on the table, and a small amount landed on the rug. A very large amount, so large I would never be able to wash it out, landed all over my beautiful maroon dress, my slimming black leggings, and my athletic socks. My mom and I rushed to mop up all we could with paper towels, and then ran for the Norwex cloths. The table cloth and the rug recovered nicely. I have already mentioned the irreparable damage done to my outfit.

The gravy boat incident has gone down in history in my family. I think about it every time I pick up the gravy boat. I am so careful. I don’t want any more funny business from my shaky hands.

Sometimes we can’t control what happens to us. I tried to do right by the test tube–I really did. I tried to keep my hormone-ridden hands tightly against the gravy boat handle. Despite my best efforts, both the test tube and the gravy boat came clattering down to earth. I felt embarrassed after the test tube incident. I had dropped a vial of bacteria onto the linoleum in front of my peers. I did not feel embarrassed about the gravy boat incident. My family and I laughed until the turkey got cold. We still laugh about “that Thanksgiving day when Hannah spilled all the gravy.” I think the better outcome is the latter. Laughter resolves more than we give it credit for. (Of course, some situations call for gravity. Don’t laugh in these situations.)

Ecclesiastes 3 says, “For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven…a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance.” Clumsiness is a time to laugh. Humor gives life a sparkle that nothing else can replace. Laugh at yourself when you can. We all make mistakes, and what happens after we’ve made them is what matters the most.

Photo: Jared Owen on Unsplash, also, YUM!