"Dear Member,
Cornerstone Credit Union has important, time sensitive information that must be reviewed immediately."
Still drowsy at five in the morning, this was the first thing I read when I woke up this past Thursday. If this was my bank's idea of a sweet morning message that everyone dreams of, they didn't succeed. At all.
I'd gone to sleep so excited for what that day had to offer. It was only a half day, after all, and my afternoon was booked with a gig for jazz band and an interview for my journalism class - two things significantly more exciting than another day at school. Sorry FHS.
Even better, Original Women's Conference was kicking off that night, and I'd been looking forward to this gathering of godly women for quite some time. This Thursday was supposed to leave me happy, ministered to, and untouchable.
I woke up feeling anything but.
So, still frantic about what urgent information my bank had in store for me, I pushed myself out of bed and ran (or rather, blundered) down the stairs to the basement. I hopped online with shaky fingers to see that all of my money had not been stolen from my savings account, nor had I been suddenly blessed with thousands of dollars to pay off those dreaded student loans that I know are just around the corner and that may or may not keep me in crippling debt for the rest of my life, but well, that's another story.
Both extremes, one awful and one that I wouldn't mind happening at all, did not take place on that Thursday morning. I had simply received a ten dollar fee from Spotify and a seven dollar fee from my bank for insufficient funds. The story is simple, really. I wanted a free trial from Spotify for a month. Free. So, I planned on canceling the subscription right as my free month ran out, enjoying my endless skips and advertisement free playlists to my heart's content. I'd even set a reminder in my phone so that I could cancel the subscription promptly before being charged.
However, I set the reminder a day too late.
Spotify didn't care about that though, nor should I have expected them to. They took their money right at midnight, and since I hadn't transferred the ten dollars I didn't plan on paying into my checking account, I was charged with an insufficient funds fee that only added to my despair.
Yes. Despair. Within minutes I was sitting at the computer screen, bleary eyed as I saw my mere ten dollars vanish before my eyes, tears streaming down my face. Much like a child, I went upstairs and wept to my mother about my mistake. I even said to her, "I'm not a criminal, mom. I just wanted a free trial."
It's easy to look back on it and chuckle now, because thankfully since that Thursday morning, Spotify has refunded me and my bank is going to cancel the insufficient funds fee, praise God.
However, I frown at that experience more than I'd like to admit. Not because Spotify was awful to me, and not because my bank wasn't gracious towards my mistake. But because I'd gotten so upset at a mere ten dollars. And I know now that it wasn't the money that I was necessarily upset over. It was the fact that even after all of my careful, perfectionist planning, everything that I'd been trying to avoid still happened. As cautious as I'd tried to be, I couldn't avoid my mistake.
I've been caught in this belief that I can handle everything that comes my way. I can plan, calculate, and deduct my way out of everything when that simply isn't true. When things don't go the way that I plan for them to, my whole sense of composure collapses. I panic. I cry. Or I simply curl up into a ball and mentally beat myself up for screwing up yet again.
I needed to remember that I am imperfect. This world is imperfect. And I'm going to find myself in crazy situations from which no amount of planning can save me.
Thankfully, this situation was minor. But,
if I had just trusted God to work everything out that morning, I probably wouldn't have been driven to tears. If, in that moment, I had been resting in the fact that I will mess up but that there is a Jesus here to help me when I do, I wouldn't have gotten so irrationally upset. I wouldn't have felt like such a failure. And my mind wouldn't have driven me to a place of such frustration. I was going to be okay. But that morning, I couldn't see God, or the big picture. I could only see my mistake.
My parents were great in helping me and comforting me, and they showered the gentleness of God on me as we dealt with the issue, which I will always appreciate. Still, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and wallow in irritation and embarrassment at my little melt down.
But, I could feel God saying to me instead, "No, Katelynn. You've got an entire day ahead of you. Don't let dejection rule you. We're going to spend some time together. And this day will still be good."
Cornerstone Credit Union has important, time sensitive information that must be reviewed immediately."
Still drowsy at five in the morning, this was the first thing I read when I woke up this past Thursday. If this was my bank's idea of a sweet morning message that everyone dreams of, they didn't succeed. At all.I'd gone to sleep so excited for what that day had to offer. It was only a half day, after all, and my afternoon was booked with a gig for jazz band and an interview for my journalism class - two things significantly more exciting than another day at school. Sorry FHS.
Even better, Original Women's Conference was kicking off that night, and I'd been looking forward to this gathering of godly women for quite some time. This Thursday was supposed to leave me happy, ministered to, and untouchable.
I woke up feeling anything but.
So, still frantic about what urgent information my bank had in store for me, I pushed myself out of bed and ran (or rather, blundered) down the stairs to the basement. I hopped online with shaky fingers to see that all of my money had not been stolen from my savings account, nor had I been suddenly blessed with thousands of dollars to pay off those dreaded student loans that I know are just around the corner and that may or may not keep me in crippling debt for the rest of my life, but well, that's another story.
Both extremes, one awful and one that I wouldn't mind happening at all, did not take place on that Thursday morning. I had simply received a ten dollar fee from Spotify and a seven dollar fee from my bank for insufficient funds. The story is simple, really. I wanted a free trial from Spotify for a month. Free. So, I planned on canceling the subscription right as my free month ran out, enjoying my endless skips and advertisement free playlists to my heart's content. I'd even set a reminder in my phone so that I could cancel the subscription promptly before being charged.
However, I set the reminder a day too late.
Spotify didn't care about that though, nor should I have expected them to. They took their money right at midnight, and since I hadn't transferred the ten dollars I didn't plan on paying into my checking account, I was charged with an insufficient funds fee that only added to my despair.
Yes. Despair. Within minutes I was sitting at the computer screen, bleary eyed as I saw my mere ten dollars vanish before my eyes, tears streaming down my face. Much like a child, I went upstairs and wept to my mother about my mistake. I even said to her, "I'm not a criminal, mom. I just wanted a free trial."
It's easy to look back on it and chuckle now, because thankfully since that Thursday morning, Spotify has refunded me and my bank is going to cancel the insufficient funds fee, praise God.
However, I frown at that experience more than I'd like to admit. Not because Spotify was awful to me, and not because my bank wasn't gracious towards my mistake. But because I'd gotten so upset at a mere ten dollars. And I know now that it wasn't the money that I was necessarily upset over. It was the fact that even after all of my careful, perfectionist planning, everything that I'd been trying to avoid still happened. As cautious as I'd tried to be, I couldn't avoid my mistake.
I've been caught in this belief that I can handle everything that comes my way. I can plan, calculate, and deduct my way out of everything when that simply isn't true. When things don't go the way that I plan for them to, my whole sense of composure collapses. I panic. I cry. Or I simply curl up into a ball and mentally beat myself up for screwing up yet again.
I needed to remember that I am imperfect. This world is imperfect. And I'm going to find myself in crazy situations from which no amount of planning can save me.
Thankfully, this situation was minor. But,
if I had just trusted God to work everything out that morning, I probably wouldn't have been driven to tears. If, in that moment, I had been resting in the fact that I will mess up but that there is a Jesus here to help me when I do, I wouldn't have gotten so irrationally upset. I wouldn't have felt like such a failure. And my mind wouldn't have driven me to a place of such frustration. I was going to be okay. But that morning, I couldn't see God, or the big picture. I could only see my mistake.
My parents were great in helping me and comforting me, and they showered the gentleness of God on me as we dealt with the issue, which I will always appreciate. Still, in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to go back to bed and wallow in irritation and embarrassment at my little melt down.
But, I could feel God saying to me instead, "No, Katelynn. You've got an entire day ahead of you. Don't let dejection rule you. We're going to spend some time together. And this day will still be good."
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