Apr 23, 2014
Winning at Losing
by Leanne Lippincott-Wuerthele
In Psalm 139:14, King David wrote, “I praise you [God] because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well” (NIV).
Commenting on this verse, S. Michael Houdman [founder, president, and CEO of Got Questions Ministries] wrote, “The context of this verse is the incredible nature of our physical bodies. The human body is the most complex and unique organism in the world, and that complexity and uniqueness speaks volumes about the mind of its Creator.”
The human head contains the human brain, which is the most important part of our physical bodies.
Like many older people, I tend to misplace or totally lose things. I am, after all, an imperfect Child of God. However, I’ve been “accidentally abandoning” things, hither and yon, most of my life.
One of my earliest memories is of my mother towering over me and saying—with more than a hint of frustration in her voice—“Leanne, it’s a good thing your head’s attached.”
When you’re a kid, that statement can be very confusing, especially if you take your parents’ proclamations literally.
Isn’t everyone’s head attached? I thought. Are there thousands of headless people wandering around, bumping into other people? How do people lose their heads in the first place? And, if they’re truly headless, how in the world can they find anything, including their heads?
At the time, those puzzling questions were way over my head.
Fortunately, I usually end up recovering mostof my lost items, either through my own efforts or those of others.
When I play euchre with a circle of friends twice a month, I inevitably leave something at the host home. (In the winter, it’s usually a sweater or a pair of gloves.) Everyone, rightly so, assumes those wayward items belong to me, so I eventually get them back. But that doesn’t always happen.
Several years ago, I wore a favorite suit jacket to a healthcare center in Edgerton, Wis., while singing with a group from the Milton SDB Church. Just before starting our musical program, I removed my jacket. When we headed back to the church, I inadvertently left that jacket behind, and I haven’t seen it since.
I’ve also lost a favorite, suede-like, long-sleeved tan shirt. I still have a matching green one, but I have absolutely no idea where the tan one is. I assume it’s somewhere in the United States; then, again, I’ve been to Canada and on a Caribbean cruise ship. Wherever it is, I hope it’s happy keeping someone else warm.
Commenting on my tendency to leave things where I don’t want to leave them, an acquaintance recently joked, “Yes, that’s Leanne’s head over there. She should be back next week, with the rest of her body, to pick it up.”
I laughed, but on the inside, I wanted to cry. It’s not fun to lose your head, under any circumstances. First off, I’ve grown very fond of my head, and I want to keep it. Secondly, headless people tend to really “gross out” people who still have their heads.
So, what am I to do? What brilliant strategies do I have in mind to put an end to my innate talent of misplacing my possessions?
I figure if I didn’t have any arms—and thus, no hands—I would stop leaving things behind, simply because it would be extremely difficult to pick up things and misplace them in the first place. However, that would involve extensive surgery. Besides, I’ve grown very fond of my arms and hands.
Oh, well… To quote that famous philosopher, Popeye the Sailor, I guess I’ll just have to live with the fact that, “I yam what I yam.”
