Choosing trust

I had just dropped Samantha off at her youth group swimming party and then stopped at Goodwill to leave some donations. There, propped against the outside wall with the other donations, was a beautifully curved white iron twin bed frame, the kind that were ordinary at the turn of the last century. I got out of the car and asked the attendant how much the bed frame was, knowing that I shouldn't even be tempting myself. (Money's tight.) He told me that it couldn't be sold until it is priced and on the floor, but that he guessed it would be between 14.99 and 19.99 and should be on the floor in thirty minutes. I thanked him for the information, left my donation and went home, struggling not to pull into Safeway and get some cash all the way.

You see, I LOVE old furnishings. Well, I love just about anything old if its got good bones. I have an unusual eclectic mix of traditional, cottage, some Victorian, and even a slightly-cluttered-traditional-slash-Pottery-Barn-ish air in my home. (It's the living room that has the Pottery Barn take going on in bits and pieces, since we "had" to buy a contemporary sofa and own a Scandia entertainment unit and I'm attempting to make everything work while still expressing my own style!) Seeing an old iron bed going for comparative pennies makes my mouth water. Do I have a place for it right now? No. Will I have a place for it someday? Maybe. Do I have a place to store it? Well, yes, this house came with a three-car-garage. However, we moved a three-bedroom-house-full, an attic-full, and a storage-unit-full of possessions to this three-bedroom home. We've never managed to have the blowout garage sale that would clear out most of the garage for a workshop area for Hubby, a dance-floor area for Samantha and a project area for me. In other words, bringing home a bed which will then be homeless in our garage (or more clutter, in other words) would make Hubby very unhappy.

Actually, this bed is only the latest in my series of small desires that often flare up, demanding notice and insisting quite loudly that I stop being sensible and just go and "buy it!". During the past week, I've resisted cocktail shrimp and ice cream on sale (not to be eaten together!), a vintage-y hanging planter I saw at my favorite consignment store as I drove past, a picture frame and lamp at Goodwill when I was specifically looking for shirts and shorts for Samantha, and a set of sheer curtains advertised in a JCPenney ad. Each time, I've had to invoke the "Do I need this or just want it?" question and then urge myself to move on.

I KNOW, with every atom of my being, that God will provide EXACTLY WHAT I NEED. Sometimes he even provides what I simply desire - that thing desired for its loveliness or usefulness or even newness. What I don't know, is WHEN he will provide it. That's where trust in him has been growing me. I say "growing me" on purpose. Yes, trust in him is growing "in" me, but God is growing me, stretching me, watching me as I firmly push down those "I want" impulses and send the wish to him. He asks only that I wait and trust. At 49 years old, I find that my willingness to be obedient to him is becoming easier and sweeter.

Because he's there. Constant. Watching over me. Loving me. Holding me up. And utterly filling my heart. What iron bed or antique mirror or transferware plate can do that?

I love to be surrounded by the little things, the "things" that I've lovingly gathered to fill my home. I also know that home isn't made up of the things in it, but the people who live there and the love they have for each other. But the truest truth I know is that the empty place in each of our hearts that we are born with, the one hollowed out there by our Creator that can only be truly filled by him, waits for him to be invited in and can never be filled by the pursuit and ownership of mere things.

Finally, I'm human. I still want the bed! But, I'll let him decide when the time is right for this desire. And I'll go to sleep tonight knowing that I said "no" to the "gimmes" again, and that the desire that I feel for the old white iron bed will fade over the coming days.


Blessings,

Michelle

About blessings . . .

There are so many uncountable blessings that alight on each day, some unnoticed, some unappreciated, but when we stop and really pay attention , we can realize how many little things feed the soul while we're not even aware and how many more "could" feed the soul if we just brought our awareness to the surface. I'm amazed at how the simple step of "counting blessings" brings such peace to the soul.

I was visiting Tracey McBride's Frugal Luxuries blog and she posted about a few moments with her daughter, counting "frugal luxuries" ((blessings)) in their lives. (Look in my sidebar - I don't know how to post a link!) I had just recently realized how doing this one simple thing could lift worries and bring me back into appreciation of the present, where I really want to be anyway. God gifts us with so many moments, moments we sometimes miss while we're consumed with the busy-ness of life. To stop and reflect, to notice, to realize that the little things are really the biggest and the best things in my life, and to give thanks for all of it, makes me realize what a gift it is to be a human being right here, right now, even with all of the challenges that are immediately facing me.

I re-read the comment I left on her blog and I'm going to repost it here because it expresses how deeply I value the ordinary gifts of each day, even when I forget and get distracted by other types of gifts, the daily challenges.

*************************************************************************************

After my prayers at night, I have been working on starting a new daily habit. I count thirty things that are blessings in my life. The ones I treasure the most have no price (they're free) and are the most cherished (priceless, as you say, Tracey). Hugs from my husband, random loving touches as he walks by me, requests for hugs from my daughter several times a day, the way she leans into my hand when I walk by her and stroke her hair as she is homeschooling, singing songs together while we're driving in the car, a perfect rose blooming on a less-than-perfect bush, the rich-as-thick-cream purr and silky fur of a well-loved kitty, nourishing food on the table for every meal, enough food stocks in the pantry to share with friends who are struggling right now, a card from a treasured friend letting me know how she treasures me (!), a small stray kitten choosing our home as a refuge, a snowy white egret in flight viewed from our back deck, a homey classic movie starring Jeanne Crain on a rainy Saturday afternoon, curling up with an old favorite book under a soft throw with a cup of steaming tea . . .

Yes, my husband's pay has been cut. Yes, he's working two jobs. Yes, we have to careful with money. And yes, I'm so grateful that through it all God not only meets our physical needs, but also meets our spiritual and emotional ones, so very well. So many blessings, so many moments to treasure, so much to be thankful for. I can only thank God for loving me enough to gift me with so much.

*************************************************************************************
I'm just as human as the next person. I get distracted by the "problems", the "struggles", the "hurdles", the "worries", the "annoyances". I'm noting these in quotes because my commitment right now is to remember wise words from my mother. She told me years ago, "There's a gift in everything. Look for the gift." A problem, struggle, hurdle, worry or annoyance contains that gift waiting to be discovered. The gift could be anything - a new realization about myself, a newly-discovered skill that can resolve a situation, remembering that I have a true and loyal friend, or the gratitude I feel when I realize that God not only answered a specific prayer, but he brought me something even better!

When I'm annoyed at my husband for some tiny thing, I try to remind myself of the man who gets out of bed at 2:45 every morning to go to his physically demanding "second" job, the man who does this out of love for his family. When I'm stumped about what to cook for dinner and contemplating the familiar package of ground beef with a less-than-thrilled attitude, I try to remind myself to say "Thank you!" for the fact that my hand and our tummies are not empty. When I wish I didn't have to remind my daughter three or four times to complete a task, I try to remember to thank God that I have a healthy daughter that has blessed our lives for thirteen years. How many parents have lost babies, toddlers or teenagers and would be so grateful for the minor annoyance of constant reminders, if they could just have that child back in their arms?

As I'm sitting here typing this, my beloved Siamese kitty, Jamoca, is curled up in front of me with his head draped over my left arm, purring in sublime contentment. Now and then his feet touch the keyboard and cause all manner of alphabetical mayhem. I gently move his feet away and fix the damage, stroking his silky fur to keep him content. When I save this post and wait for the computer to take me to the next step, I will be waiting. Reworking our spending plan means that we had to drop our faster-than-fast broadband access to a less-speedy option. It's slower while it does the job, but the important thing is that I still have internet access. Dinner tonight is likely to be some kind of pasta dish with vegetables because my pantry is full of sauce and packaged pasta and I have veggies in the freezer. I could choose to focus on what could be different, thinking that different would be better, but doing so does not change the FACT that all of these ordinary things are blessings.

God blesses me abundantly in every moment. He loves me that much. And he loves you that much. So, if you're having a day shadowed by doubts and darkness, I challenge you as I challenged my daughter this morning. Take a few moments and count twenty blessings in your life. And whether you believe in God or not, say "thank you".

I can see your smile from here.

Blessings upon you,

Michelle