A Hard Day's Night

...I should be sleepin' like a log! So, today was our first day of mock meals, designed to help train us before we started serving guests. It was INSANE. At breakfast, Dace asked me to explain the menu to him. It was the first order I had tried to take, and I said right out loud, "Oh, DANG IT!" Not the most professional response. Then, at lunch, I couldn't seem to tell my right hand from my left--hence, me serving people from the wrong side. This was me during wine service at dinner: "Two wines tonight--chardonnay and pinot noir. Serve from the right side with the right hand. Why won't this stupid knife cut through the foil? Dang it, I made the cork pop! OH SHOOT I just spilled water all over the beautiful white linen cloth!"

While we were folding napkins for the dinner, Bekah made an interesting comment: "I like that all of you are perfectionists." That threw me for a loop. I have never considered myself to be a perfectionist by any stretch of the imagination. I've always been a big "good enough is good enough" person. But in the past few months, I have definitely been acting like a perfectionist. I stew over every tiny detail and beat myself up if I make a mistake. I can definitely trace the roots, but I didn't realize it had reached a point where I could be called a perfectionist.

I still don't think I am one. A perfectionist likes perfection for its own sake--order, symmetry, and meticulous attention to detail warm the cockles of their little anal hearts. That is definitely not me. I also don't think it's a pride issue--I know that I make mistakes and don't (usually) view myself through the grid of them. I'm perfectly aware that I'm fallible and don't expect myself to be otherwise. During some serious soul-searching while ladling out the lunch lemonade (I just have to be an English dork and point out all the alliteration in this sentence), I decided that what kills me is what other people will think of me, or more accurately, what I think other people will think of me. I'm afraid that they will view me through the grid of my mistakes. Also, I hate that my actions as a server are also a reflection on Bekah, the kitchen guys and Vista Verde as a whole. What if they view all those things throught the grid of my mistakes? I guess I assume that my mistakes make up a grid that someone will pick up and look through to see me. I find it hard to believe that someone would see the grid and leave it lying there and look at me through the grid of grace and love. Weird thoughts, but they help me process.

So, I would just like to make the disclaimer that this is in no way intended to be a sob story or "Woe is me." It just helps me process my thoughts to write them out, and y'all usually have some good feedback, so I do it on blogspot.

Moving on...dinner tonight was TREMENDOUS. Crab cakes, your choice of strawberry snapper served on a bed of risotto with sauce Provence or filet mignon served over bleu cheese whipped potatoes with blistered asparagus tips, and for dessert: Matt's Slap-Your-Mama-in-the-Face-This-Dessert-Rocks Fried Banana Bread with homemade vanilla bean ice cream and a rum-caramel sauce (Rob actually printed the menu that way). All I can say is that it deserves its whopper of a name, because I don't think there are enough words that mean "good" to describe it. It was seriously one of the best things I've ever tasted. Ever.

Ok. And now...for Melodic Monday, a song that my family used to sing every year as part of our advent wreath time. It's not one of the better-known Christmas carols, but it's one of my favorites.

Thous didst leave Thy throne and Thy kingly crown
When Thou camest to earth for me
But in Bethlehem's home was there found no room
For Thy holy nativity
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

Heaven's arches rang when the angels sang
Proclaiming Thy royal decree
But in lowly birth didst Thou come to earth
And in great humility
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

The foxes found rest and the birds their nest
In the shade of the forest tree
But Thy couch was the sod, O Thou Son of God
In the deserts of Galilee
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

Thou camest, O Lord, as the Living Word
That would set Thy people free
But with mocking scorn and with crown of thorn
They bore thee to Calvary
Oh, come to my heart, Lord Jesus!
There is room in my heart for Thee!

When heaven's arches shall ring and the angels sing
At Thy coming to victory
Let Thy voice call me home, saying, "Yet there is room!
There is room at my side for thee!"
And my heart shall rejoice, Lord Jesus,
When Thou comest and callest for me!