Dalbo Sausage

Ok, so just a few minutes ago I went down to grab a quick breakfast in our cafeteria and grabbed a couple of sausage patties. When I went to pay, I was setting my stuff down and I accidentally flipped open the lid of my stirofoam container and one of the sausage patties dropped to the floor. Without even thinking, I reached down, grabbed it, and threw it back into the container. The cashier was like, "You can grab a new one" and I said, "Oh, no, that's fine." She said, "Are you sure?" (her tone was a little concerning as it seemed to imply the floors never get washed). I said, "Heck ya... makes me stronger."

The rest of the trip back to my cubicle I was thinking, "I am soooo Dalbo." Dalbo, for those of you who don't know, is a town of about 3 houses where I lived from about age 1 to 7 or so. This is not a slam on Dalbo, but when I see pictures of my grubbiness from when we lived there and bring up memories of eating dirt, etc, the term seemed to fit.

I've struggled in the past of feeling unworthy for leadership positions I've been asked to take primarily because I still have this feeling that I'm just a dork from Dalbo. Several people have helped me realize that my Dalbo-ness is not my identity nor would it ever restrict what God can do through me. I believe this is true; but this morning I was reminded that you can take the guy out of Dalbo, but you can't take Dalbo out of the guy.